The Rooftop Restaurant
by fridaylights
Summary: Ten years after disassociating himself from the Cahill world, Ian Kabra is back. One email starts a chain of events, and Amy is caught in a web of lies as she finds herself in an unlikely romance. There's just one problem: he's married and she's engaged. (Amy/Ian)
1. the ending

**AN:** This has been sitting on my computer for a while and I finally got around to editing it. It's been ages since I wrote anything for _The 39 Clues_, or even read a single book for that matter. Originally, it was intended to be a very long one-shot, but I decided to split it into a few parts. I don't know how many yet, since it is not completely written, but I'm guessing around five.

This first chapter is a bit of a teaser/prelude so the next few chapters will be MUCH longer.

Please leave a review, and I hope you all enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **All unoriginal content, characters, and plots taken from the authors of __The 39 Clues__. Everything else is my own creative content, and copying is not permitted.

**THE ROOFTOP RESTAURANT  
1: the ending  
**

_November 2023_

Looking back on the past two and a half years, Amy should have known the entire thing was a bad idea. It was incredibly out of character and she could barely formulate a reason for why she didn't go the honest route. But as much as her heart hurt, she knew she deserved it.

The small metal object bit into the palm of her fisted hand and she squeezed her eyes shut.

This was the right thing to do. The lies had caught up with her and it was time to let go of what never completely felt right. She was sickened with herself and the regret would never stop, but she had be fair and move on. She'd already caused enough damage and begging for forgiveness was pointless, especially if she wasn't entirely sure she meant it.

With a long sigh, Amy opened her hand and slid the item back into its casing in a small blue box. She tossed it into a larger cardboard box, and it bounced off a pile of borrowed clothes, returned gifts, and a white envelope with a long note. It said everything she could have never gotten out in person, her throat too tight and tears too thick every time she was confronted.

She gave the room a lasting glance, soaking in the apartment that had been a comfortable part of her live for four years, and a place of entrapment for over two. She took in every piece of furniture and blocked the memories associated with every corner. She had gotten used to the feeling of a rock in the pit of her stomach for several months, but suddenly, she felt lighter.

Amy smoothed her hands over the cardboard box one last time and tucked the flaps so it stayed closed. She pulled a keyring out of her pocket, left it on the counter, and bent down to pick up the last of her bags. The front door closed with a quiet click and she didn't look back.

She made it down the stairs and into the parking lot. A man in a pair of slacks and a white button down leaned against his car, arms crossed over his chest as he watched her come towards him. His confidence wavered when he saw the conflicted expression on her face and he hesitated before taking her suitcase.

"Are you ready?"

She smiled, squeezing his fingers tightly.

"Yeah. I'm ready."


	2. the email(s)

**AN:** I think the summary and the characters involved spoiled some of the mystery, haha. I'll let you guys guess if you still haven't gotten the premise of the story. Enjoy, and please leave a review! I decided to update fast since the first part was super short.

**Disclaimer: **All unoriginal content, characters, and plots taken from the authors of __The 39 Clues__. Everything else is my own creative content, and copying is not permitted.

**THE ROOFTOP RESTAURANT  
2: the email(s)  
**

_March 2021_

Amy loved her job.

She could spend hours upon hours in the archives, cataloguing artifacts and writing articles about them. The Boston Museum of Natural History was practically her second home... _literally_ \- she'd been woken up by a security guard afterhours several times, her head resting between the remains of an ancient Egyptian pharaoh and European jewelry from the Middle Ages. She got to travel the world for free and bounced between archaeological sites and international galleries. It also made her feel closer to her mother. She had followed Hope Cahill's footsteps with careful precision: she studied archaeology and history at Harvard, worked at a South American excavation site for a year, and returned to take several traveling jobs as a seasoned anthropologist. She loved what she did just as her mother had, too, and absorbed everything she learned with eagerness.

It was her _other_ job she had a tough time with.

She had cut hours at the museum so she could serve as the Madrigal leader. The decrease in pay didn't bother her because she had several inheritances to lean on, but the decrease in her quality of life did. Keeping the Cahills in check was exhausting and she was in awe of her late grandmother for trying. While the family had called for peace after the fight against the Vespers, they still weren't completely united. Fights constantly broke out, everyone was trying to betray one another, and each of the branches made it blatantly clear that they didn't like her acting as the policeman for their people.

She was the only one authorized to go through changes in active branch membership and assign Madrigals to investigate. Being a Cahill wasn't exactly a choice - she knew that all too well - so when a member dropped in and out of the scene, it was a cause for concern. She sat in her extravagant Attleboro office and scrolled through the thousands of names, sending them off to subsidiary Madrigal branches around the world to be probed. Her brain had gone numb from all the mindless clicking and typing when her eyes fell on a very familiar name.

_Ian Kabra._

Her breath caught. The man had fallen off the grid a little less than ten years ago, when they had been sixteen. He'd ceded any chances at Lucian leadership and busied himself in building up the Kabra name. He was the last one in his family and other than popping up in the news a few times about a new business deal, his private life, old family gossip, or skepticism about his return to celebrity status, it was radio silence. He had effectively removed himself from the Cahill world - save for his Ekaterina wife - and his return was shocking.

Her mind buzzed with the possibilities. Was he trying to make a powerplay for Lucian leadership? Was this just another way for him to further his business? Why now, after a decade? Was his wife forcing him back into the Cahill fold? There had been a few phone calls and meet ups between them after the Vesper scandal, but that was until they went off to college. By that time, he'd removed himself from all family functions, too.

As she searched through his profile, she only found basic information. His family, friends, address, contact numbers, and email. Nothing else. There was a bunch of pointless articles about his fame and wealth, but nothing that explained his reactivated membership. She didn't know if there was anyone she could trust that would be shrewd enough to scavenge through the complexities of Ian's life.

She stared at the contact information. A few phone numbers, and his email. She knew that calling him out of the blue would be incredibly unprofessional and would come under scrutiny if anyone found out she was trying to rekindle a very old friendship. Instead, she clicked on his email and studied the blank page with a frown.

Here she was, twenty-six years old and the head of one of the five most powerful organizations in the world, yet her first impulse was to email a man she'd lost contact with and now had to assign an investigator too. She knew she'd be questioned if she took on the investigation herself, and she'd be able to surpass the questions. However, directly messaging him was risky.

Despite herself, she began typing.

_Ian_,

_Wow. It's been a while. Imagine my surprise when you popped up on the Cahill databases again. _

_How are you? I haven't heard a word about you for ten years, or even seen you for eight of those outside of newspapers and tabloids. You know exactly what we do at the Madrigal strongholds, and I know you've heard that I'm the leader now. This is not me trying to coax information out of you. I wanted to reach out, for old time's sake. _

_I hope everything is well. I'd love to hear from you again. Send my regards to Cara._

_Sincerely,  
Amy Cahill  
_

* * *

Amy waited for a reply. She hated herself for checking her email so often, refreshing her inbox twice a day. She pretended she was waiting for important work inquiries, while in reality, she was just waiting on Ian's response. She wouldn't have been surprised if he never replied to her. After all, she'd contacted him after a decade of no-contact and he was well-aware what her responsibilities as Madrigal leader were. No one replied to a woman that was going to assign them an investigator. It would be the smart thing to do, and she was well aware that Ian was probably one of the most strategic men alive.

She'd just walked into her apartment when her cellphone beeped with a notification. She sighed, frustrated. Her mind immediately jumped to work or Cahill business, and she wanted to ignore the message. She flopped onto the couch and restrained herself for a moment, before she caved. The last thing she wanted was to miss out on a new artifact at the museum or an emergency at the stronghold.

When she clicked the message, she gasped.

"Oh my God. Oh my _God_," Amy muttered to herself. After sixteen days, he had sent her an email. She hated how long it took him and wondered if the logical thing to do was to let it sit in her inbox for a few days, but the curiosity won out yet again.

_Amy,_

_I knew walking back into the Lucian world was going to raise questions, but I never expected an email from the great Amelia Cahill. I'm glad you contacted me... we never kept in touch after I left and it is one of my greatest regrets._

_I am doing well, as is Cara. I assume to heard about our marriage in the paper, and I apologize for that. We're living in a flat in Manhattan. It's close to the Kabra businesses, and a central location for Cara. She's opened a law firm since her father's was beyond repair and has taken up cases in New York._

_How is your brother? I realize that I know nothing about your current whereabouts, though I imagine it must be stressful managing the Madrigals. I wish you the best, though I am confident you give nothing but your utmost to your people._

_I completely agree that we must reconnect. I will be waiting for your reply._

_Regards,  
Ian Kabra_

She read it over one, twice, five times before the message sunk in completely. It was lengthy and kind, and didn't contain any of the residual arrogance she had previously associated with Ian. She was still gaping at her phone when Jake entered the apartment and set down his backpack. He walked into the living room and laughed at her expression, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"What has you looking like that, babe?" He settled next to her on the couch and pulled her in for a smile despite how tired he was.

Amy quickly snapped out of it and shut her phone. She tossed it off to the side and kissed him. "Nothing," she said. "Just some garbage brewing with the Madrigals."

She didn't know why she didn't just tell him. Jake had never liked Ian, and he still scoffed at his name whenever it popped up on television when they were watching the news. Getting back in touch with him wasn't a big deal, and for all she knew, it would die off after another email or two. Besides, Ian's return was confidential information and as the Madrigal leader, she wasn't allowed to share it with anyone except for his case manager - if she decided to assign him one. She wouldn't tell Jake unless he absolutely needed to know, and she didn't anticipate that happening anytime soon.

"I stopped by the stronghold before coming home. I didn't realize you left early."

"That's probably the last time I'll ever get to come home at this time. Dan gave me an earful for not sleeping enough and the work was low-risk enough for me to trust him to do it the right way." She snuggled into his side. "How did Dr. Lucas treat you today?"

Jake frowned, and Amy noticed the exhaustion in his brown eyes. "Awful. I'm starting to regret this whole PhD thing. The man walked into one of my classes and nagged at me about catching up on my research in front of all my students."

Her eyebrows pinched together. Jake had gone back to Harvard for his doctorate in physics, convincing a genius researcher to be his supervisor. She remembered how excited he had been when the process had started three years ago, starry eyed and eager. Reality had set in fast, though, and she struggled to keep his hopes up when he had to deal with the stress of teaching along with the pressures of doing research under a man as intense as Dr. Lucas. She was in awe of his determination, especially since he always came back home with a smile and offered to help out at the stronghold.

"Is he even allowed to do that?" she asked.

"He's a prestigious professor at Harvard. I'd be surprised if he wasn't."

She pulled away so she could look at him, and tried to comfort him with a kiss. His dark hair was disheveled and stuck up in odd angles, and she knew it was from running his fingers through out of anxiety. "Two more years. You're almost there, honey."

Jake sighed and took her left hand, pressing his lips on the delicate diamond ring on her finger. "And two more years until we can finally put this thing to use and get married. This is the only reason I haven't dropped out of this goddamn program."

She rolled her eyes and grinned at his statement, pulling him to his feet and coaxing him to the kitchen for dinner.

* * *

_April 2021_

Amy hated how calculated she was - she'd counted exactly seven days before she sent Ian a reply. She hesitated to give him the minute details of her life, but regardless of her apprehension, she ended up writing more than she intended. She stared at the screen and tried to cut information. She quickly gave up, pressed the _send _button, and decided she had better things to do than overthinking a message to someone she hadn't spoken to or seen in person for a decade. Besides, the Janus and Ekaterina were fighting again and she had to do damage control - _fast_. She didn't need another Greek coup over simple things such as a petty argument or sports and the arts.

_Ian,_

_To be completely honest, I didn't expect you to reply. You two must be extremely busy with all those businesses of yours. Madrigal life is awful and I've aged twenty years because of it, but I'm always thankful I'm not negotiating on Wall Street like you are. That's a kind of pressure I don't ever want._

_Dan is... well, Dan. He's grown out of a lot of his mischievousness, but I think he forgets that he's twenty-four and not fourteen. He's been living at Grace's estate and taking good care of it. If it gives you any sort of context to how much more responsible he's gotten, he's only recently been entrusted with Saladin Jr. and the cat is now living with him full time since I'm too busy to take care of it._

_As for my whereabouts, I'm jumping between the Attleboro stronghold and the Boston Museum of Natural History. The Madrigals were a little angry I made the Attleboro location the main base, but it's convenient for me. When I'm not there, I'm an archaeological anthropologist at the museum. Sometimes I get lucky and travel around the world to survey artifacts and write historical records. It reminds me of the clue hunt, but much less violent and a lot more creative. It's tough, especially since Jake is stuck in Boston for his doctorate, but I love what I do._

_What about you? There is only so much I can learn about your investments from the news. I've heard rumblings about your companies moving back to the UK, but you're a better source than _The Wall Street Journal.

_Cara is a force of nature and I'm sure she's doing fantastic. I wish her the best of luck._

_Sincerely,  
Amy Cahill  
_

Amy didn't have to wait long. His reply hit her inbox the next morning and she spent breakfast with a giddy little smile on her face. She always replied to him after work at the Madrigal stronghold, and he always sent his message at the crack of dawn. It made her look forward to going to her Attleboro office, a feeling she hadn't experienced ever since she first took her oath to her branch.

Jake was giving her an odd look over the small dining table and she didn't notice until he cleared his throat.

"Are you okay? You're acting weird."

She bit her lip to suppress her grin. "It's just some good news from the Madrigals. I haven't gotten that in a while," she said. She told herself it wasn't a lie - after all, this was Cahill business... right?

"Top secret?" he asked her. The question was slightly dejected. While he had passed the test to join her branch with flying colors several years ago, he would never be able to reach her level of clearance. There was a bit of strain in their relationship due to the secrecy, but it was never too bad. She shared every aspect of her work at the museum with him and he listened to her eagerly, as she did when he told her about his doctorate progress.

She shrugged at his question and stood up to put her dishes in the sink. Instead, she focused her attention to his untouched breakfast. "I overcooked the eggs, didn't I?" she sighed.

Jake gave her a charming smile, the same one that made her fall in love with him ten years ago. He stood up to join her in the kitchen and placed his plate on the counter. "Almost there. They're better than yesterday, babe." His eyes were kind but his tone was teasing.

She swatted him with a dishtowel but he caught her arm and pulled her into him. His arms went around her and he backed her into the counter, the smooth granite digging into her back.

"You better learn quick. I'm not eating those eggs for the rest of my life."

Amy scoffed, indignant. "Hey, at least I'm better at dinner. You'd kill me if you came home to something like those eggs."

He laughed in agreement, kissing her softly. "From now on, I'll take breakfast and you take dinner. We'll figure out lunch on days we're both off."

"I like that solution. It only took eleven years of dating and four years of living together to figure out, huh?"

"I'm a little slow, if you couldn't tell."

Amy pressed her lips against his jawline, and again against his neck. "I like slow. It's cute."

He chuckled and rolled his eyes, and moved to do the dishes. "Go to work Amy."

She grinned, smoothed the wrinkles in her blouse and grabbed her things.

When she finished her five hour shift at the museum, she quickly changed into a pantsuit in the bathroom and went on her way to the stronghold. She'd resisted the urge to open his email for several hours, and didn't let herself read it until she'd settled at her desk. She even came thirty minutes early so she could have the time to herself before the chaos began and she lost track of the hours.

_Amy,_

_You have no faith in me. I'm known for my punctuality, unless, of course, the email is utter rubbish._

_I suppose Wall Street and the Cahills work at similar speeds, but in different ways. I haven't had to deal with any intercontinental rows between Prime Ministers of different branches or a spat between Hollywood and Bollywood, so I'd say my life is a little less interesting than yours._

_Saladin Jr. Very creative. I'm very glad to hear the progeny of that cat still lives. I hope he (or she?) is not as bad as their God awful father. I still have the scars, you know. I hope Dan is doing well with his new companion. Out of curiosity, though... do you not live with your brother at the estate?_

_I remember hearing about you talking about your hopes and aspirations when you were younger. I am very glad to hear you followed through with them. You must be very proud and I am extremely impressed with you, Amy Cahill - though I am not surprised. You always seemed like you would go on to do great things._

_Send my regards to Jake. He's a brilliant man, and I wish him the best with his doctorate._

_Contrary to the papers, I am staying here in Manhattan. I'm sure the businesses in the area will be disappointed when they find out their competition isn't going anywhere. I've only been back to England a few times, and it's either for business deals or upkeep in the Kabra Mansion. It doesn't seem like home anymore, and I'd much rather spend a majority of my time in the states._

_Shocking, I know. But it's taking a lot of work to rebuild my name and I don't want to be away from Cara._

_Tell me about your adventures. Where have you been for work? What museums have you seen? Have you done any archaeology in the field? I must say, if you have, that is incredibly brave of you. I can't imagine spending time with all that dust._

_Regards,  
Ian Kabra_

Amy's eyebrows rose higher and higher up her forehead the longer she read. It was an incredibly lengthy message and she appreciated that he took time out of his day to reply to her. She was still skeptical that this would last, but she was glad he had the courtesy to keep up. He had even taken the effort to send well wishes to Jake. She didn't know if she'd tell her fiancé yet, but she appreciated the fact that he'd gotten over their previously rocky relationship. While the man had changed, he hadn't changed much - she laughed quietly at his comments about Saladin and dirt.

Ian Kabra had always been an enigma. They were older, mature, and changed significantly. Despite the looming question of his mysterious return, Amy gladly welcomed the newfound friendship.

* * *

_Ian, _

_"Utter rubbish," huh? How very British of you._

_Saladin had a daughter, so it is definitely a she. We couldn't come up with any better name and wanted to honor her father, so Saladin Jr. it was. She's a spunky ball of white fur, even more than the original. It's comforting to hear you're still a big baby when it comes to animals, Ian. _

_I moved in with Jake a year after college, and he proposed last Spring. Dan is taking over the estate since I've made a permanent move to Jake's apartment. I make it a point to visit as much as I can, but I know Dan enjoys the privacy and loves being able to spend time taking care of our family home without stressing me out too much._

_You flatter me. I've always wanted to follow my mother's footsteps, and I've been lucky enough to have the opportunity to honor her through my career._

_That's sensible. I'm impressed by everything you've done - I can't seem to switch on the television without hearing about your booming business. When we turn on the radio at the museum, I have to hide my pride from my coworkers._

_Oh God. Those are some loaded questions. Where haven't I been? The museum has sent me off to exhibitions in England, Prague, Italy, Egypt, Turkey, Spain, Greece, and all over South America. I spent a year at an excavation site - the year between college and moving in with Jake - and studied ancient cultures in the area. It was amazing. I was smeared head to toe with dirt and sweat by the end of the day, but I never felt more alive. It's mundane work, but the history and culture behind every piece is thrilling._

_I hope to hear from you, especially about your new life in Manhattan. Do you miss home?_

_Sincerely,  
Amy  
_

l l l

_Amy,_

_I may live in the States, but I will always be an Englishman at heart._

_Congratulations are in order for you and Jake. Forgive me for prodding, but when are the wedding plans? I wish you two a successful future. Also, I am glad to hear Dan is doing well. I still remember the times when he'd call me "Cobra."_

_It's been a load of hard work, but I've finally made the world forget about Isabel and Vikram Kabra's erroneous ways. I suppose we've both done pretty well. It's been a journey since the clue hunt and the Vespers, but we've come far. How have the others been? The Holts? Starlings? I know for a fact Jonah is doing well. I can't seem to get Cara to turn off his music._

_You sound incredibly passionate about your work and I am glad to hear you are enjoying it. Those are some wonderful places and it is impressive that you have traveled so far while being so young. Tell me, have you been to the Natural History Museum in London? It was one of my favorite places as a child. Exploring the exhibits was always such an adventure._

_Do I miss England? Absolutely. Do I miss home, in the literal sense? No. My heart will always ache for the life I had when I was younger, back when Natalie was alive. I miss her dearly and think about her everyday. However, I do not miss the mansion. Without her, it is incredibly empty and does not feel the same. I take comfort in my businesses in New York and my home with Cara, and it eases the harsh reality of starting a new life._

_Best,  
Ian  
_

l l l

_Ian Cobra,_

_(Yes, Dan still calls you that.)_

_Jake has two more years before he ends his doctorate, so we'll probably start wedding planning around then. Don't worry, you'll get an invitation - I'm glad we got in touch when we did so I can see you again._

_We have. The Holt sisters are Olympic athletes on Team USA, while their brother runs the Tomas fulltime. That branch is a handful, as you can imagine, especially in light of their recent arguments with the Janus. Ned is in medical school with aspirations to find a cure for his migraines, and Ted has created a research facility that accommodates his blindness. Sinead runs the Ekaterinas and last I heard, she had gone on a few dates with Hamilton Holt. Jonah has been too busy to get in touch and he's been doing really well. I keep seeing him on the news at different award ceremonies._

_I love the Natural History Museum. It reminds me of a castle and I can wander inside for hours. I see why you loved it._

_I'm sorry. I understand how even time wouldn't make the loss easier. I'm glad you could find a home in the States, even if your home back in England doesn't give you the same comfort._

_Sincerely,  
__Amy_

l l l

_Amy,_

_Your sense of humor never fails to amuse me._

_I look forward to that invitation. It really has been too long since we've seen each other. _

_Interesting. The old crew seems to be doing very well for themselves. Especially Ned and Ted... as much as they bugged me as teenagers, they are an inspiration. But Hamilton and Sinead? That is a match I would have never seen coming._

_Now that you've gotten your fair share of information from me...tell me, will the Madrigals be showing up at my doorstep anytime soon?_

_Best,  
Ian_

l l l

_Ian, _

_I'm glad to provide you with entertainment in that boring Manhattan office of yours._

_Ned and Ted have a determination I have never seen before. And I agree, I was shocked when Sinead told me about Hamilton on the phone. _

_Hm... I don't know. Do you have any sketchy inside dealings you want to tell me about?_

_Yours,  
Amy  
_

l l l

_Amy,_

_As much as I enjoy writing to you, I would much rather hear your voice for a half hour instead of sitting at the computer for that amount of time and waiting for a reply. My number is 303-123-7300._

_I promise to tell you all about my "sketchy inside dealings."_

_I eagerly await your call. _

_Yours faithfully,  
Ian Kabra_


	3. the phone call(s)

**AN:** So sorry for the late update. Life has been kicking my butt, but I should be more regular. Enjoy, and leave a review with comments, questions, and constructive criticisms!

**Disclaimer: **All unoriginal content, characters, and plots taken from the authors of __The 39 Clues__. Everything else is my own creative content, and copying is not permitted.

**THE ROOFTOP RESTAURANT  
3: the phone call(s)**

_May 2021_

Amy's heart did a nervous dance when she read his last email. She'd smacked her head against her desk in embarrassment when she'd accidentally signed off with a very intimate "yours, Amy." However, Ian didn't seem to think much of it because he'd responded with the same _and _his phone number. She had left his email unanswered for days - besides, there wasn't much to reply to - and clicked open her browser just so she could contemplate whether or not she should call him. It wasn't in the profile in the Madrigal database, which meant it must have been a very private and secure personal phone.

She knew she was overthinking the entire thing, but she couldn't get her mind off it. Jake must have noticed, too. They'd been together too long for him not to. She had curled into him that night, her eyes glazed over as the movie played on the television. Her fingers fiddled mindlessly with the pendant of her jade necklace. It wasn't often she missed the entirety of _Arrival. _She loved that movie more than almost anything else.

Jake ran his fingers through her dark hair and called her name.

She blinked, and blankly stared up at his expectant face. He chuckled when he realized she didn't hear a word he had said.

"Wow, you are _really_ out of it. I asked if you were okay. I've never seen you space out like this, especially on a Friday."

She rubbed a hand over her face blearily. "It's nothing. This entire Greek coup attempt is a pain in the ass. The agents I sent can't seem to get it together."

His eyebrows pinched together and she realized she had revealed too much to cover up what was _really _on her mind. "You mean that's actual Cahills? Causing a government to fall apart?"

She sheepishly grinned. He pouted, removing his arm from around her and staring her down.

"Oh, come on, Amy. It already came out of your mouth. You have to give me more now," he whined. The way his brown hair flopped onto her forehead reminded her of a puppy and she laughed.

She made a motion to seal her lips and throw away the key, but he didn't listen. His fingers prodded her sides until she'd collapsed on the couch completely in a fit of laughter.

"Jake," she wheezed, "you're twenty-six years old! Stop this!"

He grinned at her ruddy cheeks and bright eyes, pinning her hands down and pressing a kiss to her cheek. "_Please?_" he tried again.

"If you don't stop asking me, then I'm going to sneak to your lab and read your dissertation before it's done."

That made him pause. They'd made a deal that Amy would be the first to read his completed paper, no matter how little she understood. But it wouldn't be until the day he finished. She bit back a grin and watched the gears turn in his head.

"You've got me there," he said sourly, though his expression was good natured. He released her hands and leaned down again to kiss her lips. She wound her arms around his neck and sighed at the feeling of his weight against her.

"I want to stay like this forever," she told him. The movie was playing softly in the background, lights dimmed other than the glow of the television. Both of their fingers were slick from the buttery popcorn and his lips tasted like salt. She inhaled the scent of his shampoo mixed with her flowery perfume. The couch was incredibly soft against her back and his arm wrapped around her in a tight, comforting embrace. His other hand rested by her head to hold himself up, brushing the hair out of her eyes.

"I promise you," he told her, leaving open-mouthed kisses against her jawline, "that someday, this is going to be forever."

Amy woke up several hours later, cocooned to him. They'd fallen asleep on the couch, her body practically on top of his as she clung to his side. She felt incredibly cozy: she was in her most comfortable pajamas, and Jake had covered them with a warm blanket. It was light outside - judging by how rested she was, they had slept into the late morning. She propped herself on her elbow and traced her finger along Jake's day old stubble, over his lips and across his cheekbones. She brushed back brown strands from his forehead and smiled when his eyebrows furrowed.

The television was still on and was frozen on the last credit scene. After a few more minutes, she reluctantly removed herself from his embrace and carefully tucked the blanket back around him. She lumbered into the bathroom to wash up, and into the bedroom to grab her phone. She considered the screen for a few moments and stepped out to the porch outside of their bedroom. She didn't want to wake up Jake - he'd had a long week and deserved a rest.

She paused one last time and punched in the numbers. With a bated breath, she waited as it rang one, twice, thrice…

"You've reached the private number of Ian Kabra. If this is a business inquiry, please contact my company phone. All other personal calls, please leave a message and I will get back to you. Thank you."

Amy's breath caught as she listened to that smooth, British accent for the first time in years. His voice was deeper than she remembered. She stood there dumbly as the beep resounded before she collected her thoughts again and realized she had to record a voicemail.

"Oh, hey. This is Amy Cahill. I just… I'm sure you're busy, so shoot me a call whenever you have the chance. Bye."

She quickly hung up before she said anything that made her sound even more unsure and nervous than she already did. She gave her phone a frustrated frown at the anticlimactic ending, and headed to the kitchen to make breakfast.

They spent the day catching up on bills and doing mundane housework. By the time she went back to bed, her body was heavy and sluggish. She found comfort in their routine, though, and always valued every moment she had at home. Sometimes it felt like she barely spent anytime with Jake, and standing next to the man, covered head to toe in dust and cleaning liquids, made her feel at home.

The weekend went by blissfully slow. She woke up to a Sunday that was even lazier than usual. As she laid in bed, waiting for Jake to come out of the shower, she scrolled through her phone. She had two new voicemails and four missed calls, and went straight to the messages with a sigh.

"Amy! I've called you like three times. It's almost eleven! How can you be sleeping? Anyway, I thought I lost Saladin Jr. but everything's okay because I found her in the dryer with my laundry. Don't freak out. She's safe and sound but now I have to wash my clothes again. Anywho, go do your thing. Love you, sis."

She snorted at Dan's frenzied message. She couldn't seem to get past a weekend without some sort of incident, however small it may of been. But he was her brother and she loved him for it. She moved onto the next voicemail.

"Amy, it's Ian. I'm sorry I missed your call yesterday. I have been completely swamped. It looks like we'll be playing a game of phone tag for a while. Please call me sometime today."

Without thinking, she'd pressed the "return call" button and waited for the ringer. She wasn't surprised when it jumped straight to voicemail and she sighed.

"It's Amy again. This really is going to be a game of phone tag. Catch me later tonight, I really want to talk to you but it seems like our schedules don't want to let it happen."

Jake emerged from the steaming bathroom a heartbeat later. He raised an eyebrow when he saw her phone pressed against her ear.

"Who is that?" he asked.

She sighed. "Dan called me in a panic because he thought he lost the cat."

Jake snorted. "Your brother hasn't grown much from when I first met him."

She exhaled. The lie had slid from her lips so easily. It was partially true, but she couldn't find herself to discuss Ian with her fiance.

"Trust me," she told him, "I know."

By the time Amy had finished getting ready for the day, Jake had already started on brunch. The television was on and the morning news droned in the background. She pressed a kiss to his cheek and awaited instructions.

Jake was busy whisking a creamy batter and her mouth watered at the thought of fluffy pancakes. He grinned when he caught her staring.

"The vegetables need chopping," he said, pointing at an assortment of bell peppers, onions, and tomatoes."You can toss them into a bowl and start on an omelette."

Amy got into a comfortable rhythm, chopping the ingredients at the kitchen island with Jake working behind her. She could hear the sizzle of the batter hitting a hot griddle, intermixed with the news anchor's speedy report on the state of the country. She heard the words _Ian Kabra_ and the knife slipped from her fingers.

"Ian Kabra starts off our Sunday afternoon with reports of a merger with business giant, Morgan Stanley. Kabra is CEO and founder of Kabra LLC, and his investment firm has taken the weekend to conduct hearings and negotiations with their future associates. Stocks are expected to soar in both companies as one of the most successful partnerships in banking is about to take place."

Jake had turned around at the ruckus and bent down to pick up the knife. He scowled when he spotted the screen and didn't bother teasing her at the mishap.

"I really don't miss that arrogant piece of shit," he grumbled. He looked ridiculous, muttering obscenities under his breath with a spatula in hand and an apron around his waist.

She rolled her eyes and quickly rinsed the blade before returning to her vegetables. She'd always glazed over Ian's name in newspapers. She occasionally flipped through a gossip magazine at the doctor's and read a piece about his wife out of curiosity. Otherwise, she ignored his fame and left him in her past. Her recent correspondence, however, had piqued her interest and she almost forgot she was exchanging messages and cell phone numbers with an incredibly successful multimillionaire.

Her cheeks flushed red in embarrassment against her will and she grabbed another tomato.

Amy was rudely awakened at midnight by the sound of her phone ringing. She cracked her eyes open and glared at the clock. It wasn't even that late, but she had a long day ahead of her. She heard Jake groan over her shoulder. His hand slid over her waist in a silent plead to stop the awful noise and stay in bed.

No one called late unless it was an emergency, and she knew better than to ignore the phone call. There had been too many incidents where she'd missed Dan nearly burning the house down or a Madrigal agent standing in the middle of the President's office after getting caught. She slid out of bed and grabbed the phone, darting out of the bedroom as fast as she could before Jake gave her an earful. She made sure to carefully close the door behind her.

She rubbed her face and answered the call. "Hello?" she asked.

"Shit. I'm five hours before you, aren't I? I'd thought it was five hours behind for some reason. I should know this by now."

The voice was thick with a British accent and her eyes widened, all traces of sleep vanishing. "Ian?"

"The one and only." She could hear the dry humor in his voice. "I'm sorry. I'll let you get back to sleep. I didn't have my morning coffee so I'm not functioning properly."

Amy stared at the time - the microwave read twelve forty-five - and gaped. "Are you in England? It's not even six in the morning there."

He snorted. "So? I've been awake for an hour. I have to beat the Monday market, you know."

She let that sink in. "You haven't changed in the slightest."

A low chuckle came from the other end. "So, how have you been, Amelia?" He paused. "Are you sure you don't want to sleep? I should have been more conscious of the time."

Amy smiled and sat down on the couch, wrapping a blanket around her. "I'm sure. Don't worry about it," she told him. "I'm doing well. A little shocked that we're actually talking right now."

"You're not the only one. I think we have mentioned enough times that it's been ten whole bloody years."

She flushed, a little flustered that she'd been regurgitating their emails. "England, huh? You said you weren't moving your company back there… what's this about, then?"

He laughed, much to Amy's surprise. He was in a surprisingly good mood - extremely well-natured for a person that woke up before dawn for work. "Just a little business trip. I'm trying to build back my parents' European contacts with luncheons and whatnot."

Her eyebrows pinched together. She thought about the soundbite she'd watched while preparing brunch with Jake and decided it was best if she didn't act like she kept up with business dealings. "What is it that you do? I forgot to ask."

"I'm the CEO of Kabra LLC, an investment firm. In other words, I take money from rich businesses and assign people to invest them places to help their firms grow. I had my father's company to build off of - the hard part was winning his clients back and making them trust me."

Amy contemplated that. "Wow. Sounds like a lot of arrogant, wealthy men."

She could hear the grin in his voice as he spoke. "You're speaking to one of them, love."

Her cheeks warmed despite herself at that old, affectionate pet name. She was glad he wasn't there to see the blush, and hated that she was reacting that way. "I almost forgot. You sound a lot different from that ruthless tycoon that never wears anything but suits and sunglasses. They make you seem like a pretty awful guy."

"It's always about keeping up appearances, Amy. You should know that about me," he replied. "What does a day in your life look like?"

She sighed and curled up on the sofa. "No more exciting than yours. On days I'm not travelling, I spent five hours at the museum, take a lunch break, and head to the stronghold for four or five more hours. Dan holds the front in the morning, but it's hard for him since people like calling his shift 'a gross display of nepotism.'"

"You can't seem to please the Cahills, no matter what you do."

She smothered a yawn and nodded to herself in agreement. "You don't know how true that has been lately."

He must have taken note of how bleary her voice had gotten. "You sound bloody exhausted, so I'm going to let you go back to bed. Have a good night, Amy. I enjoyed speaking with you."

She smiled into the phone. "Me too. Don't be a stranger, especially now that you have two ways to talk to me."

Ian chuckled. "Oh, don't worry. You're going to get sick of me."

A few hours later, Jake woke up to find the other half of his bed empty. It was only three in the morning and there was no way Amy had already gone to work. He sat up quickly and walked to the living room, and caught sight of her in the exact spot he'd found her several nights a month. His fiancee was curled under a thin blanket on the couch. Her dark hair was a mess and he spotted a bit of drool in the corner of her mouth.

A grin tugged at his lips. He picked her up, careful not to wake her, and carried her back to their room. He didn't even notice the cell phone that he'd left on the couch.

* * *

Amy groaned in frustration and slammed her laptop shut. She rubbed her hands over her face in angry frustration and stared at the growing pile of paperwork on her desk. There was so much to be done - peace treaties to sign, contracts to be filled out, alliances to be made - but she was desperately behind. And it was all because she'd accidentally started a fight between the Lucians and the Madrigals.

The Lucians took pride in their ability to collect information. They didn't appreciate it when other branches interfered in that, especially when it came to their discovery that the head of MI-6 was an undercover Madrigal peacekeeper.

She leaned back in her chair, and despite herself, she kicked up her feet on her desk. She'd scolded Dan for doing the same thing millions of times, especially after finding scuff marks on the expensive mahogany. She scrolled through her phone, taking a much needed break. She gnawed on her bottom lip as she thought of someone that would be very useful for her current predicament, before taking the risk and pressing the button.

"Two phone calls in two weeks? I must say, Amy, I thought you hated me."

Amy rolled her eyes. "I've had a decade to get over it."

Ian chuckled. "How are you? What brings this second call?"

"I need some perspective, actually. I'd been thinking of how I needed a Lucian ally so you popped back into the Cahill world at the right time."

His voice was sly. "And what gives you the impression that I am willing to work with you?"

She felt cheeks warm. "Ian, you wouldn't have picked up or even emailed me back if you thought otherwise."

He sighed. "Guilty. What have my people been up to this time?"

"Well, I've been keeping track of a few controversial Lucians in MI-6. They have a bad track record of abusing agency resources to hunt down Cahills from other branches and torture them for political information. It's incredibly smart, but I don't want them staging uprisings and disrupting any semblance of peace "

"Let me guess," he said dryly. "The MI-6 agents in question are Delilah Richards and Harrison Andrews."

Her eyebrows shot upwards. "You know them?"

"Something like that. Kabras have always been well-connected, even if we haven't been involved lately," he reminded her.

She sighed in exasperation. "_Ian_."

"I promise it's nothing shady. Just a contact. Besides, they're bloody notorious. As a Lucian, it's hard not to know who they are. They're practically legends."

"Well, I may have caused a bit of a rift when I pulled a few strings and replaced their non-Cahill supervisor with a Madrigal a few years ago. They figured it out last week and are keeping him hostage, even though his only task was to pass on information."

To her surprise, Ian laughed. "You really botched that up, didn't you?"

"I just want advice, Ian. I would like my Madrigal agent back alive and in one piece, and I know they have a reputation for doing the opposite."

He paused, and seemed to consider that. "Give me three days. I'll take care of it."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "I don't want you getting mixed up in this. I promise I can get it done, I just need some perspective on those two."

"Amy," he chided, "don't worry about it. You'll have some good news very soon. Take the favor."

Amy was slightly suspicious. Lucians always had a motive, and Ian Kabra was no different. As much as she wanted the issue resolved, she was hesitant to accept his help. She didn't know if this was his way of buying into her good graces after ten years of radio silence, and honestly, she felt a little embarrassed to have to ask someone for help. Regardless, there was no reason to sit there and contemplate his intentions when he was her only option.

She ceded with a sigh.

He fulfilled his promise in much less time. Forty-seven hours later, she received a text message.

[Ian] _Check your email._

Amy excused herself from a meeting and went straight to her laptop. To her surprise, there was a very lengthy message waiting for her from Harrison Andrews himself.

_Ms. Amelia Cahill,_

_Despite the blatant disrespect and distrust exhibited by your branch, Delilah and I have decided to release your agent. You will be pleased to learn that Tom Morrison has been returned to the London base. To our knowledge, he will return to work at MI-6 tomorrow. There are no hard feelings._

_However, I recommend you have a little more faith in the Lucians. Delilah and I have helped avoid some very unfortunate political mishaps, and we will continue to do so. I hope you are conscious of this fact, as Tom Morrison has been reassigned by the agency. We will leave you in peace and expect you do the same. We serve the same interests as you: to maintain order in the Cahill world. _

_Have a wonderful evening._

_Sincerely,  
Harrison Andrews_


	4. the text message(s)

**AN: **Wow, you all are too kind! I appreciate all the reviews and look forward to hearing more feedback from you all. A few answers to some points that have been brought up:

1\. The Greek coup is going to serve as a subplot and you will definitely be hearing a lot more about it. This fic moves quite fast because each chapter follows a theme, but Cahill skirmishes move very slowly in the background.

2\. Also, I am so glad some of you are notices the gaps in Jake and Amy's relationship. During this chapter and the next, those holes will become a lot more obvious. I look forward to hearing what you all think!

3\. Lastly, I want to point out that I do not condone unfaithful relationships. However, if you follow the dialogue and physical reactions very carefully, you'll be able to put together exactly how the dominoes started falling. Now that Ian is in the picture, we will also start hearing his side of the story (albeit in small doses in his POV every so often).

**Disclaimer: **All unoriginal content, characters, and plots taken from the authors of __The 39 Clues__. Everything else is my own creative content, and copying is not permitted.

**THE ROOFTOP RESTAURANT  
****4: the text message(s)**

_August 2021_

[Jake] Lunch on me today, at noon?

[Amy] You just made my day

[Jake] Hahaha perfect. See you then

[Amy] Love you! I had some news for you so it looks like you'll be hearing it from me early

[Jake] Uh oh. Good or bad?

[Amy] Depends on how you look at it. You'll have to wait and see ;)

Jake slung an arm around Amy's shoulders as they walked down the streets of Boston. The city was bustling during lunch hour, businessmen and women lounging under outdoor umbrellas in the hot weather. She was glad she wore a linen dress to work - the sun was bright and angry, and it was a sweltering day.

As they took a seat at one of their favorite restaurants, the canopy creating a cool shade over their heads, Jake rattled off her order from memory. He stared at her expectantly after the waitress dropped off two glasses of iced water.

"Alright, I've been waiting three hours for this news," he told her, rolling up the sleeves of his button down. "Hit me with it."

Amy grinned at him. She thought she was going to get reprimanded for the cataloguing fiasco from a few weeks ago when the museum director called her into his office that morning. She was pleasantly surprised at the proposition he presented to her, albeit nervous of Jake's reaction.

"Director Martinez worked at the American Museum of Natural History in New York City, and he was there for a conference last month. Turns out, one of the executive directors is retiring due to some health issues and they need an interim co-director to help her partner until they can find someone permanent for a five year contract. She has an emergency surgery in a few weeks so someone needs to come in as soon as possible."

She caught the hesitation on Jake's face instantly and she tried to curb her enthusiasm.

"Well, no one really wants to take temporary part-time positions during transition periods, but he thought I would be interested to fill in since their search ends around the same time we're getting married."

Jake looked so flabbergasted that he hadn't even noticed the panini that had been placed in front of him. "Wow. Amy, that's amazing," he said, but she caught the strain in his voice. "That's incredible experience."

"I know," she agreed, watching the perspiration slide down her cold glass. "He said it could turn into something permanent, but I said I wasn't interested. Attleboro is home for me."

"Does that mean you'll have to move out there for the next two years?" he asked. He took a bite of his sandwich and she knew it was to distract from his hesitation with her job offer.

She shook her head. "I'd fly out Wednesday nights and come back Sunday mornings. I'd be free Sunday afternoon through my fly-out time. They're going to reassign my position in Boston, and promote me from assistant director to executive co-director when I get back."

His eyebrows shot upwards and she grinned. The thought that having her for three and a half full days was extremely appealing. They barely saw one another with her bouncing between the stronghold and the museum and it was hurting their relationship. Especially when Jake needed someone to come home to after hard days in the classroom and lab.

"Almost three entire days with you, Amy Cahill. You're going to get sick of me," he teased, and finally, the smile that reached his eyes was genuine.

She rolled her eyes and took a forkful of chicken salad. "Maybe I'll finally learn how to make breakfast food."

He snorted. "Don't bother. I'll leave dinner to you."

They dissolved into comfortable silence as they ate, before Jake asked her another question. "When do they want you to fly out?"

"Next week. I wanted to run it by you before I let them book tickets and make living arrangements for me."

Jake looked embarrassed. He brushed the crumbs off his hands and ran his fingers through his hair sheepishly, ears tinged red. "You don't need to do that, Amy. You worked hard to get where you are."

Amy took his hand from across the table and squeezed. "If we're going to be getting married, then we're going to have to start making decisions like a team. I know I worked for this, but I'm not giving up family for it."

The warm look in his brown eyes was grateful.

By the time she returned to work, her cheeks were flushed from happiness and her head felt light from excitement. She had been organizing artifacts for the new "African Society" exhibit when Dr. Martinez entered the room.

"Do you have news for me, Miss Cahill?" he asked, hands folded behind his back. The man was in his late forties and spent more than half his life at the Boston museum. He had served in half a dozen roles before making a quick ascent to the top. While Amy admired his charisma and his work, she knew there was a bigger world beyond her cocoon in Massachusetts.

She beamed, and he read her expression in an instant.

"Yes," she said. "I would love to."

He chuckled, and handed her a thick folder he had been holding behind his back. "Your ticket is booked for Wednesday. Take the weekend to read this over and sign in the appropriate places. You'll be training for two weeks, so make sure you get some rest beforehand."

She flipped it open to her itinerary and saw it had been booked weeks prior under her name. "How were you so sure I was going to say yes?"

Dr. Martinez smiled at her. "If you were anything like your mother, I knew you would find a way. You did not disappoint."

* * *

[Ian] It's come to my attention that the Museum of Natural History has come under some new leadership… know anything about that?

[Amy] You really do have eyes and ears everywhere, don't you?

[Ian] I have to, if I'm writing them annual checks.

[Ian] Congratulations. I know you are the perfect person for the job. Can't say I was surprised when Lily told me you were her temporary replacement.

[Amy] You flatter me, Ian. Thank you!

[Amy] Maybe I'll see you when I'm in the city?

[Ian] Most definitely.

Amy was one of the most powerful women in the Cahill world, the leader of a branch, survivor of the clue hunt, and champion of the Vesper scandal. She had worked her butt off at the museum and fulfilled her dream of taking over her mother's job. She didn't dare sacrifice her family - a rarity, for someone in her positive - and kept her loved ones close through her achievements. Despite this, as she stood on the sidewalk at the airport drop-off, her stomach was twisted in knots. She pocketed her phone before it fell from her sweaty hands.

Jake hauled two suitcases out of the trunk. She was taking more things than her usual trips to set up her museum-paid apartment for the next two years. Once he loaded her thinks into a cart, she gripped the handlebar tightly.

"You're turning green, babe," he told her. His expression was concerned.

She tried to swallow down the nerves. While most of her trips were temporary, there was something unsettling about the fact that she would be spending half the week away from home for a while.

"Just a little anxious," she said. "Are you sure you'll be fine?"

He furrowed his eyebrows. "It's just three days, Amy. I can survive. I should be asking _you _that question."

She sighed and embraced him, her head falling against his chest. "I know. Two years of this is a long time, though."

Jake's arms went around her and he pressed his lips against her head. "It is. But this is your dream. We have a whole life ahead after this."

She frowned and reluctantly pulled away to say her last goodbyes.

About an hour and half later, Amy was standing in the terminal of the John F. Kennedy International Airport with two suitcases, a purse, and a sense of complete and utter stupidity for not booking a taxi ride in advance. She had been so preoccupied in her worry and stress that she forgot to do one of the most important things to avoid the airport taxi line.

To her surprise, a petite woman came barrelling through the pickup area while calling her name. Amy's eyes widened and she broke out into a grin when she recognized who it was. In a pair of ripped jeans, a nineties rock band t-shirt, sneakers, and hair dyed a modest black was Nellie.

Her childhood au pair darted in front of moving vehicles, muttering curses in a dozen foreign languages. When she reached Amy, she smothered her in a tight hug.

"I haven't seen you in a while, kiddo!" Nellie burst. She took in Amy's flabbergasted expression. "Didn't expect to see me here, huh?"

While she had texted her about her new job, she didn't recall giving the woman details of her flight. "Let me guess," she said, "Dan ratted me out?"

Nellie nodded, taking ahold of one of the suitcases and leading her to the car. She ignored the scalding glare from one of the traffic control workers. "He forwarded your itinerary to me. Thought it would be a nice surprise since I missed you the last few times you were here."

Despite her stubborn refusal to go to college, Nellie had done exactly that. Her parents had been thrilled and she had more than enough money to put to use after cashing in her share of Grace's inheritance and her salary from years of babysitting. She had studied the two things she was most passionate about: linguistics and art. After a dual degree, masters program, and a few scattered internships, Nellie had landed herself a job as an interpreter and linguist for the United Nations Headquarters in New York City. The au pair had taken a fast climb up the ladder, and Amy couldn't have been prouder.

Some things never changed, though, like the nose ring, loud clothing, or terrible driving. Amy clung to her seat for dear life as Nellie sped through traffic and broke several laws.

"Dinner first, and then I help you set your apartment. Deal?"

Amy nodded in agreement. "How has work been?"

Nellie smiled. "A chaotic and unimaginable dream," she told her. "It's fantastic, the things I get to hear and sit in on. Plenty of Cahills have passed through the annual conferences and I always make sure to step on their toes and remind them whose kid is boss."

She grinned. Nellie had declared Amy and Dan her pseudo-children, and never stopped bragging about them to other Cahills. "You've got to tell me about those fights the Russian ambassador gets with the Ukrainians."

"Oh, you bet. I've never heard so many curses in an international office before. It's glorious," Nellie proclaimed. "Tell me, how's life been for you, kiddo?"

Amy shrugged. "Nothing's changed from our last phone call. This whole museum thing is putting my life on a whole new track, though, and I'm excited."

"You should really consider making it a permanent switch. New York looks good on you - all that Madrigal stuff makes you look ten years older."

"Thanks a lot, Nellie," she pouted. "I don't think Jake wants me to do anything like that. I'm not sure he knows where he's going after his doctorate, but he will not be happy if I'm the one dragging him places."

Nellie harrumphed. "I never liked Jake anyway."

"I'm _marrying_ him."

"And? You've put your life on hold for his doctorate and readjusted your work for that. He's too stubborn to take an offer in New York and that's only because you'll be in a higher paying job."

Amy cringed. "It's not like that."

"Say what you want, but Jake's an insecure ass," she replied decidedly. "Anyway, give me more. Anything else exciting I need to know about?"

They were stuck in traffic again and Amy figured she should get it out now. She had a hard time keeping anything from Nellie, and knew the woman kept every word a secret. Besides, Amy hated keeping secrets from Jake and the next best thing was telling her closest friend. Despite that Nellie was thirty-two, six years her senior, she was a sister and a mother all in one.

"Well, I've been talking to Ian Kabra."

There was a beat of silence as the car drifted and Nellie slammed the brakes before she rear ended someone with her shiny new Cherokee.

"You _what_? Excuse me. I don't think I heard you right."

Amy snorted at her dramatics. "He popped back onto the Cahill world a few months ago, rejoined the Lucians, and came under Madrigal investigation. I took it on myself and sent him an email instead, and we've been talking ever since."

"Talking," Nellie repeated, and gave her a look she knew all too well.

She exhaled. "Phone calls, text messages, that sort of thing. We're just catching up."

"Wow. I've seen that man and his wife's faces on the news and all over the city, but I never thought he'd come back to the branches," Nellie mused. She drummed the steering wheel with her fingers and took a sharp turn onto the next exit. "What does Jake think? He hated him when you were kids."

Amy's mouth grew dry. "Uh, I haven't brought it up to Jake yet."

Nellie raised an eyebrow. "Figures. He's too immature to handle that sort of information."

"_Nellie._"

"Fine, fine," she ceded. "Are you going to see him? He has a huge apartment somewhere in the city, doesn't he?"

Amy shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't thought it through," she lied. She had been thinking about it more than she should've been.

"Well, if you do, steal me a decor piece. They had a spread on _Architectural_ _Digest_ and it was insane." She paused, watched Amy laugh, and grew serious. "But, really, kiddo. Be careful. That man is one of the most intelligent and dangerous people on the planet. If he's back, then he's definitely up to something."

Amy swallowed and nodded. That was the same hesitation that had been lurking in the back of her head for months.

"Don't worry. I will."

* * *

[Ian] Shit, it looks like I'm going to have to take a rain check on that dinner. How does the first week of September sound?

[Amy] Darn. That sounds good to me. Saturday night?

[Ian] Perfect. I'm so sorry, I have business this week and then Cara is pushing me to go to one of her philanthropy dinners

[Amy] Yikes. At least you'll have good food

[Ian] That's the married life for you

[Amy] Haha, I'll be sure to think things through a second time

In all honesty, Amy was relieved when he'd cancelled their plans. It was one less thing to stress over on top of her never ending training at the museum. She was only to spend eight or nine hours on site, but it quickly turns into twelve hour days. Lily had split her duties and served the less desirable shifts during the second half of the week, and Amy was starting to feel the pain as she came home from work at seven on a Saturday night.

She was exhausted. Her fellow executive co-director, James Lee, was extremely forgiving when she made errors in the museums meticulous record keeping system. He fixed them before Lily could notice when it was Thursday morning again. She was thankful, but the collection in New York was mind numbingly large. She was thrilled, but keeping up with the demands of such a large institution was unbelievably hard. From managing the exhibits to charming the trustees and donors, it was a step up than her position as a simple curator.

She had been texting back and forth with Ian over the past two weeks. Interestly enough, it was much more than she had heard from Jake. Her fiance had been distant and unreceptive when she had gone home for the first time and she wondered if it had been because of how much she spoke about her new job. The excitement was fresh and she wanted to share it, but she kept it to herself when she remembered how stressful Jake's work was becoming as he approached his last year and a half.

Amy collapsed onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. Lily had been so loved by the donors that they had offered to house whoever she chose to take over for the coming two years. The apartment was cozy and in the heart of New York's nicest neighborhoods, which meant it was a lot more expensive than Amy could ever afford. It was a temporary arrangement, but if she saved her salary for the next twenty-five months, she would be able to take on the rent.

Fortunately, she would never have that problem. It would be back to Boston, where her and Jake would be looking for a house to settle in and start a family. Amy loved Attleboro with all her heart, but ever since she became the head of the Madrigal branch, it was suffocating. She wanted a fresh start - someplace new, exciting, and fast paced to keep up with her responsibilities as a Cahill.

Jake wanted the opposite, and she understood that. Getting his PhD was exhausting and he deserved a break after all the trouble she dragging him through when they were teenagers. He wanted to stay close to his roots and saw the Madrigal base in Massachusetts as a home. They had been there for all their lives, and he had no intention of leaving. While Amy wanted everything he did - a spouse, a house, and children - she also wanted the chance to balance it with a career. Nellie was right. Ever since Jake started his doctorate and she moved in, her life had slowed down.

When she picked up her phone to check the time, she saw that she had been laying in bed for an hour. She had made it a rule to spend either Friday or Saturday nights with Nellie, since she could sleep during her flight and have a lazy Sunday back home. She would be here any moment, and Amy still had to wash off layers of dusty artifacts.

Nellie arrived a half hour later and frowned at her as soon as she opened the door. "Oh, kiddo, you look awful," she proclaimed.

Amy grimaced at her brutal honesty. "It's been a long three days."

Her former au pair lifted up two paper bags that smelled delicious. "Lucky for you, I have enough home cooked food in here to send you off stuffed like a turkey."

Amy grinned, her mouth watering instantly. She missed her cooking. Nothing could match Nellie's multicultural meals and she missed her childhood. "I love you," she said, letting her inside.

As Amy set a pair of dishes, Nellie unboxed the food. "Tell me, how has your second week been? How is Dan?"

"It's been great, actually. I'm dead tired, but it's the good kind, you know? I love working here and it hurts to leave the museum."

Nellie nodded, her curly hair bouncing. "Oh, I know. It's all worth it when you actually like your job."

"And Dan's doing well. He spends the first half of the week checking into strongholds around the world, but I think he's also found some interesting jobs he wants to take."

Nellie snorted. "As long as he's working and not messing around at poor Grace's estate, he'll be fine."

"Absolutely. Last month, he tried to install some locks he made himself and wouldn't accept he did the math wrong. He slept on my couch for a week while a locksmith tried to figure out how to take it down without replacing all the doors."

Nellie laughed. "He'll always be a child," she sighed.

"What have you been up to this week?"

"Nothing much. There's a lot of noise in the UN because of the refugee crisis getting media attention again, which means long hours for me. I've been working more with France this year so I've definitely learned a lot."

Amy nodded, impressed. "I have no idea how you keep all those languages straight in your head."

"It took three decades of practice, kiddo," she said. She paused, and Amy was surprised when she saw a surreptitious look cross her face. "Things have gotten serious with Micah."

Amy's eyebrows shot upwards. She hadn't expected that. Nellie was always hesitant to discuss her dating life, especially after Sammy's death. The most she said about Micah was how she had been getting to know him, and that was _months_ ago.

"Micah Hartono? The Singaporean god from back in January?"

Nellie was visibly surprised at her memory. "Half-Hawaiian, too, but yes. He travels a lot but he mentioned coming with him next time."

Amy was elated. From what she had heard - and seen in photos - Micah was a handsome, intelligent Political Affairs Officer. He was a devoted humanitarian, an excellent cook, and a closeted hard rock enthusiast, which made him a perfect balance for someone as spunky and passionate as Nellie.

"So does that mean you're going?" she asked.

Nellie had an earnest expression on her face, but it was hard to take seriously with the large ruby stud in her nose. "I _really _like him."

Amy couldn't help her enthusiastic giggle. "Just remember when you're picking wedding palettes: green is not my color."

She narrowly dodged the salsa covered spoon that was chucked her way.


	5. the dinner(s)

**AN: **Just wanted to mention real quick that _yes, _the restaurant in this fic resembles a real one in New York City. However, I have changed a lot about it, like it's location, appearance, to tailor it to this story.

**Disclaimer: **All unoriginal content, characters, and plots taken from the authors of __The 39 Clues__. Everything else is my own creative content, and copying is not permitted.

**THE ROOFTOP RESTAURANT  
****5: the dinner(s)**

_September 2021_

"No freaking way."

Amy and Dan had just returned to the estate after an incredibly lengthy meeting at the Madrigal base. When the younger sibling opened the door, they were stunned at the sight of their great-uncle standing in the foyer with a kind smile on his face. The man had been in rehab for months after a nasty injury. He had fallen down a set of stone stairs in Rome, thanks to some inconsiderate ex-Vespers that didn't know he had retired from the Cahills long ago. The seventy-nine year old man was expected to spend almost a year in his facility of choice—but he was back home and he was on his feet again.

"You're home!" Amy exclaimed, and both siblings threw their arms around him. As always, he was in a black suit with a new wooden cane to support his weight.

He laughed and his arms went around the two. "It was a good surprise, huh? You two promised to visit but I haven't seen you in three months!"

"That's what you get for picking Florida," Dan grunted. He had taken Fiske's injury the hardest, upset that he was left all alone. The elder man thought it was wise to hide out someplace warm and far from any Cahill branches. Florida was the appropriate choice.

Amy shot her brother a subtle glare at his remark. "We're glad you're home. Come on, I'll have someone make you dinner."

He waved her off. "No worries, I already ate with Jake."

She was surprised. "Jake? _My _Jake?"

"I don't know any other Jake, do you?" Fiske chuckled. "I stopped by your apartment first to say hello, but he told me you were stuck at the stronghold. It was already late so he offered me whatever dinner he had prepared at home."

Amy cursed, guilt washing over her. She _always _made dinner without fail. Jake must have thought he was doing her a favor by cooking her a meal but she hadn't even showed up. "He's not going to be happy," she sighed.

Fiske's smile was kind. "Go home, Amy. I'll stop by the stronghold tomorrow. Now that I've got this thing," he said, lifting his cane, "I can beat some sense into those fools."

He was one of her last living relatives from Grace's generation. McIntyre's death was a decade ago but still felt fresh, and she even found herself missing her Aunt Beatrice. The reality was that Fiske was getting old, and his injury was a testament to how little time they had left with him. Now that he was back, Amy didn't want to leave.

"Go ahead, sis. I'll keep old Fiske some company," Dan grinned, narrowly dodging a playful smack from the cane.

Reluctantly, she left for her apartment.

As soon as she walked in, she smelled the faint aroma of herbs still lingering in the air. She checked the time and frowned. It was already eight— she had been at the stronghold for much longer than she had planned, and spent an additional hour at the estate. She could hear the faint hum of the television and walked into the living room.

Jake immediately got up and pressed a kiss to her cheek, as per routine. He didn't look too upset, but Amy knew he was disappointed. "Long day, huh?" he asked her.

She smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry."

Jake brushed off her apology and started for the kitchen. "Your Uncle Fiske came by. He's out of physical therapy early."

She nodded, setting down her purse and watching him take containers out of the fridge. "I stopped by the estate and he gave us a nice little surprise. He told me you two had dinner."

He pursed his lips and slid a plateful of food in the microwave.

Amy sighed and slid onto a barstool. "Jake, I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say."

"It's not that big of a deal. I just wish you would ask someone to help at the stronghold instead of overwhelming yourself."

She pursed her lips. "I know. I don't want to put anymore work on Dan since he already takes care of the branch for half a week."

Jake frowned. "It's eight o'clock, Amy. You were there for nearly twelve hours."

"I know that."

"I thought the point of working half-time at the museum was so we would spend more time together. I've been seeing you even less," he told her.

Amy knew he was frustrated, but she was too. The four other branches had been pushing back on all Madrigal peacekeeping efforts and she felt like she was fighting a losing battle to unite the Cahills. Things were significantly better since the Clue Hunt, but as her generation of Cahills grew older, things became much more political.

"I'm trying my best. I need things to die down on the Cahill front and then I'll be all yours."

He set the plate in front of her. "We should take a break. Go on vacation in the middle of nowhere, and get away from all this."

Amy smiled at his attempt to break the tension. "Two years, and we'll have everything we've been working for."

* * *

[Ian] Sending you the address for Saturday. Reservations are under my name if you get there before me

[Amy] Wow, you really plan ahead, don't you?

[Ian] Haha what else is a secretary for?

Amy had quickly learned that having a car in New York City was possibly one of the most disastrous decisions a person could make. It seemed as if the entire world had decided to take a drive that evening. Her taxi inched alone the traffic at a painfully slow pace and what should've been a twenty minute drive turned into a forty minute snail race. She was already fifteen minutes late and from what her phone told her, there were still two blocks to go.

When a group of pedestrians she had seen a few blocks ago walked past her car, she decided she'd had enough. She fished some money out of her purse and handed it to the driver.

"You can drop me off here," she said. "There's enough to cover the full trip plus a tip. Thank you!"

She smoothed the wrinkles out of her clothes as she brisk walked down the street. It had taken her an hour to dress herself, but she settled on a black pencil skirt, silk blouse, and comfortable leather loafers. She was glad she didn't wear heels as she sped across the sidewalk.

SoHo was one of the most affluent villages in Manhattan. It was on the lower side of the city and only ten minutes away from Wall Street, an appropriate choice for Ian. She stopped in front of the appropriate address, confused when she saw it was a luxury hotel and spa. The doorman was looking at her puzzled expression and asked her if she was lost.

"Yes, I'm looking for this restaurant," she said, showing him an address on her phone.

He nodded in recognition. "Oh, that's the _Ophelia_. It's on the twenty-sixth floor. You can take the eastern elevators in the lobby, miss."

A moment later, Amy stepped out onto one of the most breathtaking restaurants she had ever seen. The large roof was illuminated by small bulbs, strung along a wooden canopy. The sky was open, but the beams that held the lights were laced with leafy plants and vines. Soft music played in the background, and dozens of formal tables spaced evenly across the area. There was a large bar at the back of the restaurant, the word _Ophelia_ in cursive along a brick wall and bottles of expensive liquor on mahogany shelving. Men and women dressed in proper clothing strolled freely, and there was the sound of clinking glasses and lively conversation.

Amy was mesmerized by the night sky and she almost didn't notice a woman asking if she had a reservation.

"Yes," someone answered for her, "it's under 'Ian Kabra.'"

That smooth British accent was unmistakable and she turned around to the man behind her. Ian Kabra looked fantastic; he had grown a few inches from what she remembered. He wore a white button down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and a pair of navy slacks. Strands of gelled black hair fell onto his forehead and dark brows settled low over a very familiar pair of amber eyes. There were some not-so-subtle reminders of his wealth, too, like the silver Cartier watch and the brown designer shoes.

"You look just as lovely as I remembered, Amy Cahill," he told her warmly.

Her cheeks flushed. "And you're a lot taller," she noted.

Ian chuckled and bent down to meet her halfway in an embrace. "It's a good thing I didn't keep you waiting too long. The traffic is bloody awful," he said, as a waiter led them to their table.

As he pulled out a chair for her, he caught her staring at the spread of the bustling city below. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"I can't believe I've never heard of this place. The view is amazing."

He agreed with her. "Not many people do. It's a little gem, and it's never too crowded."

The waiter dropped off some water, and Amy glanced at Ian from over her menu. She was already surprised at how much his personality had grown; gone was the spoiled and wounded sixteen year old, replaced with a charming and self-assured man. He had taken the death of his sister very hard, but had drawn strength from it despite being hit again by Isabel's accident and Vikram's abandonment. She was impressed and wondered if Cara had changed too.

After reciting their orders, they settled into a comfortable silence. Amy folded her hands on the table.

"This still feels weird. I thought I was never going to see you again after you walked away."

Ian looked sheepish. "I admit it was not the best way to do things. My sixteen year old self was very rash."

"Some mistakes are meant to be made," she decided. "Now that I have you in front of me, what have you been up to? Your name has been plastered everywhere nowadays."

He seemed thrilled that she asked. "A partnership. We're currently working on absorbing one of Morgan Stanley's smaller corporations to help us tackle a very important client from overseas. It'll be the first time it has ever happened and it's a good way to get experience in foreign investments outside the Euro-American sphere without getting too political."

The news hadn't named the mysterious client either and she was curious. "You said you take money and reinvest it for your customers. If your client is abroad and this upscale… is it a person, or a _country_?"

The smirk on his face was devilish. "You'll have to wait and see."

"Your company hits it big with a historical investment. Meanwhile, you pop into the Lucian stronghold and revive your membership. Am I on to something?" she asked teasingly, though the gears were turning in her head.

He was holding back a grin. "Did you suggest dinner out of the goodness of your heart, or was it for an interrogation?"

Amy shrugged. "I'm killing two birds with one stone, aren't I?"

He was offended. "So now I'm a bird? I thought I was a shrewd businessman a few weeks ago."

"I think a peacock is more appropriate. The taxi I took here had some magazines with some very interesting photoshoots."

Ian groaned. "Don't remind me. Those are to keep an image and network with the fashion industry. I have no desire to wear suits with peacock feather patterns on them."

She laughed. "I thought it was charming. The smolder was very convincing."

Their food arrived after a few short minutes of playful accusations and Amy sighed in contentment as a piece of sizzling mozzarella melted on her tongue.

"How has the museum been? Lily left big shoes to fill."

She noted how he seamlessly shifted the focus off himself and she suppressed a smile. "It's so much bigger than my job in Boston, so it's been an adjustment. But I absolutely adore working with Lily— I'll be sad to see her go when my training is done, but I'm excited to work on the exhibits," she told him. "I saw your name on the donor list. You probably have to visit often, don't you?"

"Not as much as I'd like. Actually, I host a company banquet there every spring. We invite some friends to have dinner in the lobby. Then they share drinks, wander on their own, and view exclusive pieces from the archives. It gives them good publicity, some donors, and helps everyone build connections during a fun night off. Other than that, I haven't had a thorough tour."

Her eyebrows rose. "James mentioned something about an annual event, but he never mentioned who was hosting. Why the American Museum? Why not the Met, or MoMA?"

"Well, the Met is already home to a pompous gala. MoMA would be frivolous. I think the pieces at a historical museum offer much more knowledgeable discussion. MoMA leaves everyone to their opinions."

Amy smiled. "There's something else about the American Museum, isn't there?"

"Now that I have your ear, I can convince you and your co-director to spare some of your more sensitive pieces."

She scoffed. "It seems like I wasn't the only one that came with a motive."

Ian shrugged. "Two birds with one stone, like you said."

"Oh, so now _I'm _the bird."

"Yes," he grinned. "Maybe a blue jay, or a crow. Two different ends of the friendliness spectrum, but intelligent nonetheless."

She was surprised. "You live in Manhattan. How do you know this much about birds?"

Ian smirked. "What can I say? I'm a well read man."

Amy grinned. Some things never changed, and his pride was one of them.

* * *

_November 2021_

In between traveling, work, the branches, and life, it had been a few years since their little family got together for a proper Thanksgiving. With Nellie back in Attleboro for the weekend and Fiske on his feet again, they were having a feast.

Amy and Dan had joined her in the kitchen. Together, they had produced a mountain of food and the siblings gaped as Nellie continued to garnish and season the dishes. She had been watching their every move with a sharp eye, correcting mistakes and scolding them for not following her recipes properly. There were about half a dozen pies in the oven, waiting to come out for dessert.

Their table spread was extravagant and smelled mouthwatering. Fiske took his seat at the head of the table, surrounded by Dan, Amy, Nellie, and Jake. After joining hands for a quick prayer, they began loading their plates. It became apparent very quickly that there would be leftovers for days.

"Nellie, I can't breathe," Dan wailed. They had gathered in the living room with dessert and she forced another slice of pie onto his plate.

"Shut up and eat," she replied pleasantly.

Dan began nibbling away at the next piece, not all too unwillingly.

Fiske turned to Amy and Jake. "You two are staying the night, yes?"

It had always been a tradition for them to stay over, despite living a few minutes away. "Of course. I'll get the bags out of the car later."

"Dan?" Fiske said, and the man looked at him with a mouthful of food. "How about you get their bags instead?"

"Oh, no, I can do it—" Jake started.

"I've got it. I need a walk after that dinner," Dan grimaced.

After a few more hours of teasing Dan and beating Fiske at his favorite board games, they began retiring for the night. While Dan had made the estate a permanent home, Amy loved being able to spend a few nights whenever she could. They had remodeled the mansion exactly how it had been before it burned down and it reminded her of Grace.

Jake was propped up against the headboard, legs crossed at the ankle. "Are you here for the whole weekend?"

Amy emerged from the shower and wrung out her wet hair. "Yes, but I have to head back Tuesday night to make up for the work I would've done this weekend." She noticed the scowl on Jake's face and tossed her towel onto a chair. "What is it now?"

He pursed his lips. "It's nothing."

She crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. "You couldn't spare the one holiday I'm home, could you?" she said, incredulous he was picking at an old argument.

"Don't do this, Amy," he warned.

She scoffed. "Do what? Call you out for making faces every single time I mention the museum?"

"I've tried to talk multiple times and instead of doing the same, you're picking a fight."

"It's not picking a fight when _you _can't seem to control your body language."

"What are you trying to do, Amy? Paint me as the villain?"

"I want you to be as patient with me as I've been with you through this goddamn doctorate!" she burst, her voice rising.

"Patient? You've barely tolerated it! You were given one offer and you hightailed out of Massachusetts as fast as you could."

Amy grew frustrated and her eyes stung with angry tears. "I didn't abandon you, Jake. I went to work. I've been waiting _years_ for you and you can't even wait three days a week!"

"Don't try to pin this on me."

"Well, stop acting like a child! It's not my job to keep you entertained. We agreed this would be good for me and made the decision together."

He scoffed. "Together? What the hell was I supposed to do, Amy? Stop you? You were pretty dead set on leaving."

"You're treating me like I wanted to."

"It sure as hell seemed like you did. It feels like I'm living with a roommate, not my goddamn fiancee."

Amy couldn't stop the hot tears rolling down her cheeks. "Stop making me choose between you and a three day temporary job."

"Stop making me feel like an idiot for choosing a woman that can't make time to fit me into her schedule."

She gritted her teeth. "You are an insecure fool, Rosenbloom, and that isn't anyone's fault but yours."

She noticed Jake collecting his things, probably to drive back to the apartment. She laughed humorlessly and made a move to leave the room instead.

"Don't bother," she said. "I'll do you a favor and leave."

The door slammed shut behind her.

Amy knew the entire house must have heard. He had been yelling and her voice was hoarse from responding just as loud. She went downstairs for a glass of water and some distance to clear her head. The television was on in the living room and she glanced inside to check who was awake.

Nellie was curled on the couch, a soft blanket around her and a cup of tea in her hands. A classic romance was playing on the screen, the sound turned down low. She turned her head when she caught Amy moving about and gave her a sympathetic frown. As soon as she saw Nellie's kind and mothering expression, she had to fight back more tears.

"Oh, kiddo. Come here."

Amy walked over to the couch and fell into her embrace. She didn't have to say anything for Nellie to squeeze her and share the blanket. She turned up the volume to hide her quiet sniffling.

Amy had hated Thanksgiving for the longest time. After her parents died, she and Dan felt incomplete. When Beatrice took them in, she punished them for having the smallest amount of fun and often left them alone with teenage Nellie. Grace started inviting them regularly, but her estate was a reminder that her mother was dead. Nellie took over afterwards, but all Amy could think of was how tiny their family was.

Once Jake and Fiske came into her life, her heart felt a little more complete. Between them, Dan, and Nellie, they were an odd and mismatched group of people. But they were family and she loved them tremendously. Thanksgiving felt whole even when everyone wasn't present because she knew she had her people. This year, she found herself resenting the holiday again and all her work to remedy it in her mind had been for nothing.

"You're going to be okay, Amy."

Nellie held her tightly while she cried.

* * *

_December 2021_

The eighth weekend they had dinner, Ian's hug was accompanied by a peck on the cheek. Amy had to swallow her surprise to stop her face from turning scarlet.

Somehow the Saturday dinners turned into a weekly occurrence. Amy didn't know how he managed to make time between his company and his wife. They had only skipped a few scattered weekends. Meanwhile, she had moved her nights with Nellie to Fridays and sometimes even spent Saturday brunches with her former guardian. The woman never asked why, but she knew Nellie had a suspicion as to where she was.

Amy never told her fiance. While she knew she wasn't doing anything wrong—she was just catching up with a childhood friend—she was still hesitant to mention him to Jake. There was a long history behind them, and even though Jake didn't meet Ian until two years later, he had strong opinions. At sixteen, he had quickly gathered that Amy and Ian were childhood crushes though they never progressed beyond a few lingering glances. Despite that, he made quick judgments and labeled the eldest Kabra a spoiled and dangerous menace. Even after ten years, his mind didn't budge, especially after seeing Ian's success in the media.

Considering how little Ian mentioned his wife, Amy didn't think Cara knew either. As children, the woman had quickly tired from the Cahill world and distanced herself as much as possible after her father's violent scheme. Now, she was an important criminal justice lawyer and lived a high society life. When she wasn't pouring over cases, Ian said, she was busying herself in designer releases and charity dinners. He explained that it wasn't that he didn't feel passionately about philanthropy— he hated the endless dinners and 'schmoozing' to get donors to cough up a few million.

They always ended up at the same place: the _Ophelia_. Amy never tired of the views and Ian appreciated the privacy. Each dinner was accompanied by teasing arguments and rapid fire debate. One day it was corporate contributions to global warming, the next it was Europe's role in the Greek debt crisis. Sometimes they even argued over whether Da Vinci was overrated and Rembrandt was underappreciated.

Ian was a guarded man, but she appreciated how open he tried to be. He put in a genuine effort in their conversation and seemed entertained.

It was December, and the restaurant had accommodated their guests by placing powerful heaters across the rooftop. Additionally, glass planes were fitted between the wooden beams overhead. They were completely covered and the warmth was comparable to the indoors. She loved that she could still see snow drifting from above and melting into the city.

They had finished off their dinner with two glasses of sparkling juice (apparently, Ian was on an alcohol cleanse and Amy wasn't about to devour wine alone) while standing at the edge of the roof. The roads were glittering, but not from the traffic. The city had decorated the trees and sidewalks with lights for the holiday season. There were only two weeks until Christmas and they were both bound to get swept up in family obligations for at least a month.

She inhaled the smell of crisp, winter air. "I love this city," she breathed.

Ian watched her with an indecipherable expression. "Then why don't you move here? The museum wants you for more than two years, you know."

She _did _know. James and Lily made it abundantly clear to her everyday how pleased they were with her progress. There were about half a dozen reasons why she couldn't, and they all started and ended with Jake. The last thing she wanted to do was pour out her heart in front of Ian Kabra and expose her unstable relationship to him.

When she remained silent and lost in thought, he reached over and squeezed her hand. "The holidays are different here, aren't they?"

She didn't blush, but a warmth spread to her toes. His quiet company was comfortable.

"Merry Christmas, Ian."

"Happy Christmas, Amy."


	6. the kiss(es)

**AN: **As of the end of chapter 5, Ian and Amy have been in correspondence (in several forms) for ten months. Talk about _sloooow _progression, huh?

I apologize for the late update; I have several chapters written, but editing them is a pain in the ass. However, if we reach 35 reviews by Thursday or Friday, I'll edit and post the next chapter a few days early!

Also, for the two people that come closest to my mental image of these two: Raza Jaffrey as Ian Kabra, Sophie Turner as Amy Cahill.

**Disclaimer: **All unoriginal content, characters, and plots taken from the authors of __The 39 Clues__. Everything else is my own creative content, and copying is not permitted.

**THE ROOFTOP RESTAURANT  
****6: the kiss(es)**

_January 2022_

Jake's definition of resolving a fight was to pretend it never happened. They never argued about her work after the incident at Thanksgiving and fell back into their usual routine. The apartment was always tense when she was preparing to leave on Wednesdays and she wondered if taking the job really was a mistake.

She did her best to remedy the situation. She cut back hours at the Madrigal stronghold, let Dan shoulder a little more work, and even considered resigning as branch leader. Maybe if she passed the role onto someone else, she could become a simple manager for a base elsewhere and save hours on end. The thought made her uncomfortable—after all, her grandmother and mother had worked to their deaths to build up the Madrigals—and she couldn't bear to part with something that had such a large role in shaping her life. But if it was going to save her future marriage, she might as well try.

Amy had pushed her flight to Thursday morning so that her and Jake could take a midweek date at their favorite restaurant. It had been six months since she started at the American Museum, and six months since they had gone on a simple dinner. For the first time in a while, things felt normal.

Amy woke up before dawn when it was still dark outside. She was awake before her alarm and she frowned— she needed to catch her flight in a few hours if she was going to make it to work in time. She made a move to get out of bed and Jake groaned, pulling her back in.

"Just one more hour, babe," he muttered, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck.

She sighed as his lips trailed down her shoulder. "I don't want to risk being late to the airport."

His fingers traced the length of her spine and she shivered. "A few minutes won't hurt," he goaded.

She rolled over to face him. "Jake, I have to shower too. I don't have time."

He had a mischievous grin on his face. "I have an easy solution for that."

Amy was running up the steps to the museum a few hours later, sleep deprived and almost an hour late. She had missed her flight, but was able to hop on the next one only a few minutes later. She didn't have any time to nap in between her arrival and work, and she was drained. The only thing preventing her from dropping to the ground and falling asleep was her cup of coffee.

She waded through the early morning visitors to the private wing of the museum. James had told her that he was coming in that morning for an important meeting. There was a prominent donor waiting to be met, which meant she had already made a bad impression. She checked her watch on her way to his office: she was already fifteen minutes late.

She knocked on his door and walked in once he let her inside. There was a frown of disappointment on his face; after all, he had come in on a Thursday just to help her with another phase of her adjustment. This was the first time she had made a blunder, and hopefully the last.

"James, I'm _so_ sorry." She stopped when he waved off her apology and instead gestured at the man sitting across from him. Amy had barely noticed the guest and her mouth ran dry when she put a face to the suited figure.

"No need. Mr. Kabra and I were just enjoying a cup of coffee. There are some doughnuts, too, if you'd like some. This is Amy Cahill, our newest co-director and Lily's replacement."

Ian had risen from his chair with a massive smirk on his face as he registered her flabbergasted expression. "Hello, Amy."

"Ian. Wow. What a nice surprise," she said flatly. She wasn't unhappy to see him— she just couldn't believe she rushed to meet such a "prominent and accomplished" donor that turned out to be a friend.

"_Mr. Kabra_," James stressed, indirectly telling her off for using the man's first name, "has been with the American museum for the last two years. He will be hosting his third annual banquet this year."

Ian chuckled. "There's no need for an introduction, James. Amy and I have known each other for a while."

The elder man looked stunned. "Oh. In that case, this should be much easier than I anticipated. Let's get to work, shall we?"

Ian had described his banquet as a fancy dinner between a few "friends." Sitting in the office, Amy realized that he had severely downplayed its importance. As they threw around the names of celebrities and Wall Street CEOs, she tried to keep her mouth closed. It was the event of the year in New York City, and she even heard James referencing an article that called its exclusivity "second to the Met Gala." While she had been mentally prepared for throwing together an exhibit for Ian's business partners, she was _not _ready to mingle with people whose net worth spanned hundreds of millions.

The meeting had lasted over an hour and Amy had a massive headache by the end. James walked them out of his office and Ian lingered until the man left.

"So I might have understated a few things."

Amy raised her eyebrows. "You might have," she echoed. "At least I have until April to put something together."

"I'm confident you'll do a good job. Lily has been organizing the long term arrangements but it's all you now that she's gone."

"No pressure, huh?" she sighed. "How long are you on this side of the city? Do you have time for lunch in a few hours?"

Ian looked surprised that she had asked. "I do, actually. I have my car with me. Should I pick you up at noon?"

She agreed. As promised, Ian showed up in a luxurious blacks sports car that was probably worth more than her salary. The seats inside were a soft Italian leather and the dashboard looked like a computer screen. She tried not to gape but she was stunned.

Ian was completely unaware of her bewilderment. "Where to?"

She winced when she realized she hadn't even thought of a lunch spot. Usually she was so busy that she grabbed a simple meal from the museum cafeteria. The last thing she wanted to do was bring Ian into an indoor public area where everyone had a cell phone and little care for privacy.

"Wow, I am the worst planner."

He laughed. "I think I know a restaurant a few blocks from here."

Amy furrowed her eyebrows when she realized something. "Ian, have you ever eaten at a normal place before? Some dollar pizza? Or even a bodega?"

He looked appalled that she had even suggested a thing. "Why on earth would I want to eat that?"

She snorted. "If you go down a few blocks, there's a park with some great food carts."

Ian didn't look very convinced but followed her instructions. After a ten minute struggle to find an open parking garage and a very long line, they were walking back with two tin containers of piping hot Bengali food. Her fingers were numb from the frigid winter air by the time they returned to the car. She laughed at his skepticism as he considered the overflowing tray before placing a napkin on his lap.

"I feel like I need a video of this. This is a historical moment."

He shot her a glower and tentatively tried a bite. He took his time chewing and gave Amy an exasperated look. "Are you going to watch me eat?"

"It was either that, or film you. How was it?"

He was acting like a food critic and she laughed. "Quite good. He overdid the spices, though. It reminds me of my grandmother's Indian food."

Amy grinned triumphantly. "Normal food isn't so bad, is it, Cobra?"

He rolled his eyes at the nickname. "Very funny, Cahill."

"The greasy dollar pizza is next. Then the hot dogs. Or maybe I should start with the pretzels first?" she reasoned. She was determined to break Ian out of his cocoon of wealth. "If I'm lucky, we'll even get you a classic dose of food poisoning from some street food."

He was visibly nauseated. "Please don't."

She laughed. "Keep eating. You still have a long way to go."

Ian dropped Amy off near one of the museum's private entrances. As always, he circled to the passenger side to help her out of the vehicle.

"This was a nice change. We should do this again," Ian decided, leaning an elbow against the door.

Amy was doubtful. "Are you lying to me?"

He laughed. "I'm being honest— I really enjoyed that bloody street food. God forbid those words ever come out of my mouth again."

"I'll make a peasant out of you, Ian Kabra."

He snorted. "Don't remind me. I was such a brat when I was fourteen."

She had to smother her grin. "Among other things. I hated you."

"I did too, thanks to my dear mum," he admitted.

His words stirred a little bit of sadness in her. Had it not been for Isabel Kabra, Amy wouldn't have developed so much resentment for the family. She wondered if any of them would have been where they were now if Ian hadn't been forced to fight alone.

Amy sighed. "I really did miss you. It's nice having you around again."

He flashed her a crooked grin. "I missed you, too, Amy."

She didn't know if it was the nostalgia or his proximity, but she found herself standing on her toes to reach his lips. Her mouth fitted against his perfectly and he was kissing her back without hesitation. Her hand skimmed his jawline, his stubble pricking her fingers.

She broke away after a second when she fully registered the gravity of what she was doing.

"Oh God. I'm sorry, that was inappropriate—"

"Amy—"

"I really shouldn't have done that. I'm an idiot and I don't know what came over me—"

"Just wait—"

"I am _so _sorry, Ian. I must have temporarily lost my mind—"

Amy was rambling aimlessly, panicked and appalled by her actions. She didn't know what else to do besides apologize profusely, and pray that she would sink into the ground. Ian must have recognized he wasn't getting a word in, so he did the one thing she least expected.

"Bloody hell, will you let me speak?"

He put a hand on her cheek, pulled her in, and kissed her.

* * *

_February 2022_

[Amy] I'm going to need you to come in after-hours this week to figure out which exhibitions you want for your banquet. I'm so sorry to disturb your evening.

[Ian] Don't worry about it, Amy. I'll be there.

Ian Kabra was a multidimensional man. He had single handedly built one of the largest business empires out of the ruins of his family name and a lousy inheritance. He had survived the Clue Hunt, the Vesper breach, and the subsequent attacks that occurred. He grew up with virtually no family, cut off ties with most of the people he knew, and created a new life for himself. He was clever and incredibly smart, outwitting his opponents in minutes. He was an expert at reading body language and predicting moves in advance. He had served on very few missions for the Lucians in the past ten years, but each one had been a success. He had lied, pulled the trigger, manipulated… but he had _never _cheated on his wife.

Cara was his high school sweetheart. They had run off from their broken lives with the teenage delusion that they only needed each other. While Cara cashed in her father's empire and went to college in the States, Ian took a break from their relationship and moved back to England. It took a degree and several years of hard work, but he built himself a business after regaining the trust of his father's clients. He didn't know where Vikram was—and frankly, he didn't care.

He loved Cara and had gotten so used to having her in his life, he couldn't imagine himself without her. In between their break up at eighteen and dating again at twenty-four, he had hated most of the girls he dated. They gave him a headache and frankly, Cara had been the most convenient backup. She brought up the idea of marriage and they wed a few months later.

However, spending the last two years with her hadn't been anything close to what he expected. After buying a small firm and turning it into a legal fortress, Cara was akin to a robot. Every facet of her life was committed to expanding her overflowing bank account. She was also hell-bent on thrusting herself into the public eye and having her name plastered in as many magazines and tabloids as possible. He found himself wondering if she was the one leaking information about his private life.

Despite his frustration, she was a good woman. She was accomplished and powerful, and stayed involved in her law firm. She was faithful and did her best to be the best spouse she could. He could count on her for intelligent conversation and companionship. This past week, however, things had been more strained than usual.

Cara Pierce was back in contact with her father. Much like Vikram, Rutherford Pierce had dropped off the face of the earth after the Cahills had beaten him and stripped him of his wealth. He always assumed that he had gone someplace abroad, and his suspicions were confirmed when she sat him down to tell him the news. Rutherford had reached out to Cara and Galt after a decade in hopes of rekindling a relationship with his children. He had been too angry to listen to anything else she had been saying and stormed off without a word.

"Ian? Are you even listening to me?"

He snapped out of his angry train of thought and returned his attention to the woman in front of him. "What do you want?" he asked, regretting his words immediately.

Cara narrowed her green eyes. "If you're going to keep acting like this, I don't know what to do. I told you, I haven't made a decision about Dad so you're going to have to suck up your pride and stop acting like I've betrayed you. It's been a week of this treatment and I'm sick of it."

He winced at her tone. "I'm sorry. I'm tired and I drifted. I'm still listening."

Cara glared at him from the other side of the dining table but kept talking. He tuned her out.

He could not stop thinking about Amy. His dinners with her had been a pleasant escape for the past few months, and her emails before that had been refreshing. She had grown from a timid teenager to a strong willed and ambitious woman. She knew what she wanted, but she kept a balance with her loved ones. He could never figure out what she saw in Jake Rosenbloom, but he was lucky to have her.

He didn't tell Cara—not because she would react badly, but he needed a piece of him that she wouldn't want to exploit for money or turn into an argument about how little time they spent together. Everything had been nice and uncomplicated between him and Amy until she kissed him and he kissed her right back.

He still didn't know how he felt. The woman had practically bolted back inside the museum and cut off communication for three weeks until her message last night. What he had done definitely classified as cheating, but the amount of regret he felt was trivial.

Ian glanced at the clock. He was supposed to meet her after-hours, which meant cutting dinner short.

"Cara, I have to leave. I'm viewing the pieces for April's banquet."

She frowned. "Okay. Well, I have my fitting for that dress tomorrow. If I'm not back by the time you're home then I'm out with Miranda. Her husband needs a new legal team and if only I can get into her good graces…"

There it was again. Cara the-money-making-machine Pierce.

The minute he arrived and was granted clearance by a security guard, Amy turned scarlet. It was obvious that she was still mortified at their little moment in January. She got to business immediately and scanned them into the archives. They passed a ridiculous amount of security points before walking through a large metal door. He had been here several times before, but was always stunned at how the number of artifacts multiplied.

She led him into the first room and he wrinkled his nose at the dust. He imagined this was what a senior citizen home smelled like. The walls were lined with shelves and glass boxes, and there was a large wooden table in the center of the room.

"Obviously you'll have the customary museum exhibits—the lobby dinosaurs and whatnot. After dinner, I thought you could move guests into the planetarium for drinks. We'd clear out the seating, add some standing tables and floor lighting to make the room navigable. We would screen the Space Show if there are not clean skies."

She was distracting herself by unlocking cases of artifacts and refused to meet his eye. "I thought we could swap out some of the less popular exhibits for pieces from the European and Turkish royalty collection. There are gilded and bejeweled objects from two of the greatest empires. For a more natural touch, we would open up the fossil hall. The technology wing is being developed but that can be opened by April."

Amy turned to him for his opinion but she flushed when she caught him watching her rather than examining the pieces. Ian wasn't nitpicky about what was opened for his guests—anything new and branded as exclusive was an easy hit. She did a fantastic job of putting together a plan so the banquet flowed from exhibit to exhibit. However, he was more interested in the fact that their kiss had affected her to the point where she'd shut him out completely.

"How does this sound?" she asked him.

He nodded and stepped closer, noting how her body stiffened. "Good. This should be fine. It's very well organized."

Amy tucked a lock of auburn hair behind her ear. "Okay. Well, if that's all—"

Ian frowned. "I understand if you want to keep this purely professional, but there is no need to push me away because of a mistake."

She looked like a deer caught in headlights. "I don't— that's not what I'm doing."

"Yes it is. You kissed me and you're blocking me out because you're afraid."

Amy pursed her lips and looked away. She was leaning heavily on the glass behind her as if her legs were going to give out.

"You're not afraid of me. We've spent enough time together for me to know that," he reasoned aloud. He stepped closer and noticed how she didn't try to inch away. "Which can only mean you're afraid that you're going to want to do it again."

When she met his gaze, her jade green eyes stubbornly staring back, he couldn't help himself. He pulled her body forward and he bent down to crush his lips against hers. She was kissing him back after a beat of surprise, mouths heatedly moving against each other in anticipation.

Ian pushed her into the shelves and thought better of it once a boxed artifact teetered precariously. Instead, he caged her between his body and the adjacent wall. His head dropped to the crook of her neck and he left messy kisses down her collarbone, pushing aside the fabric of her blouse. Her skin was soft and warm and he could feel his self-control dwindling.

"Shit," Ian muttered, out of breath. "Hold on."

Amy had been in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt. "What?"

His body didn't want him to pull away, but he did anyway. "Amy, I'm married. You're about to be. I made a mistake."

Those words must have snapped her out of whatever hormonal haze she had been in. He could see an instant reaction setting in her wide eyes.

"You're the one that kissed me, and now you're bringing up your wife. Get out."

His chest clenched. She was furious with him, her entire body shaking from anger. She had every right to be: his head was pounding from confusion and frustration, and he couldn't figure out what he wanted.

"Amy—"

"No. I don't want to talk to you. You need to get the hell away from me."

He stared at her, jaw clenched, and did exactly as she'd asked.


	7. the hookup(s)

**AN: **This chapter could have gone in a way different direction, but I wanted to keep it rated T. Thank you for all the reviews, I appreciate everyone's input and am working on improving the details when we reach the physical parts. Please continue to give me your questions, comments, and concerns - I love reading each one!

**Disclaimer: **All unoriginal content, characters, and plots taken from the authors of __The 39 Clues__. Everything else is my own creative content, and copying is not permitted.

**THE ROOFTOP RESTAURANT  
****7: the hookup(s)**

_April 2022_

Amy decided there was no reason to keep Ian a secret anymore and told Jake a month before the banquet. Granted, she left out several pieces of information and heavily edited the truth. All her fiance knew was this: Ian Kabra had a banquet he wanted to host in the American Museum of Natural History. As executive co-director, Amy was stuck answering to his every whim. Their correspondence had begun in January, when she became involved in the process, and would end in April immediately after the banquet.

Jake was surprised and slightly sour at the mention of Ian. He asked a few general questions about the wealthy man's whereabouts and that was it. She didn't expect him to let go of the subject so easily, but he did.

Amy's next step was to beg him to come to the banquet as her date. She was allowed five of her own guests. Nellie agreed, while Dan and Fiske were too busy to make the trip. She even called her best friend Sinead, who was shocked to hear from her but regrettably declined. The woman was a full-time, high-ranking branch official and she was very busy with Ekaterina business.

Every time she met Ian during their dinners last year, she felt an indescribable relief in his company. The man was devastatingly handsome and ridiculously charming to boot, but it was his strength and passion that made her want him. She knew the Lucian had danger and manipulation encoded in his DNA, but she fell victim to his flirtation and intelligence. When she had kissed him, the attraction that she had confused with friendship manifested as a fire in the pit of her stomach. It morphed into hurt when he had pushed her away the night in the museum archives.

Afterwards, she kept their interactions at a minimum and he began sending an employee in his place to meet about preparations. They didn't see each other for months, and despite the weight in her heart, she was relieved. No more lies, and no more inexplicable desire.

So when Jake agreed to come to her banquet the night before, she was elated. He had stayed the night in her New York apartment. It had been the first time he visited her and he was visibly perturbed at how expensive it was in contrast to their plain home in Boston. With Jake at the dinner, she wouldn't have to worry about Ian. The hatred between the two men would be enough to act as a buffer and to prevent her from feeling all the unfaithful, wrong emotions she had when she was around him.

Amy wrung her fingers in the limousine as it approached the museum. There were crowds gathered behind metal police blockades, trying to catch a glance of their favorite celebrities. Guests dressed in elegant, fashionable gowns and expensive suits posed in front of flashing cameras and police struggled to keep the paparazzi at bay. She caught sight of Ian through the window, his arm around a slender blonde.

Cara.

Her stomach turned and she felt nauseous. The thought of all four of them under the same roof—Ian, Amy, and their respective partners—brought back a wave of sickening guilt.

Jake took her hand. He squeezed her fingers and kissed her cheek, mistaking her distress as nerves.

"You look beautiful, Amy. Stop worrying. This will be over before you know it."

She thought she was going to vomit when she caught how tenderly he was looking at her. When he helped her out of the car, cameras documenting their arrival, Amy was stunned to hear that people seemed to know who she was.

"Director Cahill!" A reporter tried to stop her but a security guard ushered her on. "I spoke to Director Lee earlier and he told me how you organized this event. What was it like, working with Mr. Kabra?"

She shot the woman an apologetic smile and continued on inside. As soon as she reached the top stair and crossed the threshold, Nellie bounded to her side. She was wearing a strapless plum dress, her curls falling over her shoulders and her eyes lined with her trademark kohl. She had even taken out the nose ring and replaced it with a small silver stud.

"Holy shit, Amy. You will _not _believe who I met. Gordon-freaking-Ramsey! Why is he even at a museum?"

Amy couldn't stop herself from laughing at her starstruck enthusiasm. "Because he has money, Nellie."

"Okay, but what about her? Come on, what does a Victoria's Secret model have in common with Kabra LLC?"

Jake snorted and answered the question for her. "Money."

Amy spent the next half hour wading through members of the Board of Trustees, ducking past the rich and famous that didn't know who she was, and most importantly, avoiding Ian. She could feel his sharp gaze following her and Jake as she introduced him to Director Lee and Lily.

"That gown is doing fantastic things to your figure, sweetheart," Lily told her.

The old woman had forced Amy to join her hunt for a dress. She told her that there was always an influx of designers waiting to outfit the directors for the infamous Kabra banquet. Amy had been no exception. She had been given a dress straight off the runway to borrow for the night and a matching little clutch to store her belongings. She was dressed in a sleeveless sapphire gown with a low neckline and a slit much higher than she was used to. The bodice was covered in heavy beading and clung to her hips, flowing freely down her legs. She wore matching velvet block heels and earrings that were worth more than her annual salary. Her hair had been styled into a complicated updo, a few strands framing her face.

She lasted an entire dinner without talking to him. She stayed at her designated table and kept her eyes on the ivory cloth. Jake watched the entire ordeal with an interested expression on his face as Ian's accented voice echoed through the hall. She tuned out of his speech about his company and focused on the meal that had been brought out. Her stomach twisted and turned through dinner—when everyone finished their desserts, it meant it was her turn to take the podium. She stepped up to the platform and lowered the microphone to her height.

"If I could have your attention, please."

Amy hated how unsure her voice sounded. She made the mistake of looking over at Ian's table and his dark eyes bore into her. She wanted nothing more than to go home and curl up in bed with her favorite book. She had the entire hall's attention and sought out Jake instead.

"My name is Amy Cahill, and as you know, I am the newest executive co-director of this museum. In cooperation with Mr. Kabra, the American Museum staff and myself have put together an exclusive collection for your enjoyment. It would be my honor to begin the second—and much more entertaining, in my opinion—part of the night with a Space Show in the planetarium. As always, there will be drinks and an open bar."

There was a wave of laughter at her quiet attempt at humor and she smiled.

"Our museum guides will be at your disposal as you view our artifacts. Have a wonderful time, and thank you for your attendance!"

Her cheeks flushed a rosy color as she stepped off the podium and began ushering people into the appropriate wing. A few minutes later, Amy caught up with Nellie and Jake. To her disdain, Ian was walking towards her with his wife.

She pretending not to see him until his low voice called her name. She turned around and gave him a tight smile.

"Amy," he greeted. The dome was focused on the starry sky and the colors cast an ominous glow over Ian's face.

She plastered a smile and her gaze shifted to Cara. She wore a gold slip dress that clung to every curve of her thin body. Her white-blonde hair was swept into a tight ponytail and ruby earrings dangled from her ears. The woman was examining her carefully, her clear green eyes curious. She was just as poised as she remembered.

"It's been so long!" she said suddenly. "It's so nice seeing you again, Amy. These ten years have been kind to you."

She didn't know how to take the odd compliment and returned her friendly hug. In her periphery, she could see Nellie awkwardly greeting Ian and Jake giving him an uncomfortable handshake. The two men didn't seem to know how to treat one another. Amy didn't think the painful reunion couldn't get any worse.

"Isn't this nice? All the Cahills back at it. I never thought our paths would cross again," Cara continued.

Nellie nodded. "It only took ten years, but we aren't at each other's throats anymore."

Ian snorted and Amy caught him giving Jake a disdainful glance. "Well, we can't speak for everyone."

Jake hadn't understood the cleverly veiled insult, but Amy did. She purposefully took her fiance's arm and glared. Ian was visibly displeased— his shoulders squared in response and a deep frown set into his features.

Cara clearly didn't enjoy where the conversation was going and pretended to spot someone. She pointed him out to Ian. "You're going to want to save Luke before he ends up draped over a fossil like last year," she told her husband. Her body language exposed her desperation to rejoin their wealthier companions.

"Bloody hell. I'd better stop him before he embarrasses me again."

The couple bid their group farewell and joined a man waving a bottle of scotch in the air. Amy had never seen Ian so carefree as he responded to his friend's taunts with a wide grin and loud laughter.

Nellie waited until Jake wandered off to try to start a conversation with a public figure before she gave Amy her two-cents.

"Well, that wasn't awful," she breathed into her ear. "You didn't tell me Ian Kabra had become so freaking hot. He looks so much better in person."

Amy gave her a scandalized glare, as if she hadn't ran her hands all over his chest a few months ago.

"What? I'm not allowed to look?"

She frowned. "He has a giant metal pole up his ass. His wife couldn't stand talking to us for more than thirty seconds."

Nellie raised her eyebrows. "Woah, there. I thought you were having a great time 'catching up' with him. And what do his looks have anything to do with Cara?"

Amy stiffened. Nellie was too observant not to catch the bitterness in her tone. "It's nothing. I'm just tired. Working with him has been a pain in the ass."

Her former guardian patted her shoulder sympathetically. "At least it's over now."

"It's over. Now come on," she said, looping her arm through Nellie's, "let me show you the woodwork from the Ottoman Empire. You cannot believe how long I've been waiting to get my hands on an armoire."

"Nerd."

"Oh, shut up. If you came during the weekdays, you could've seen the Hard Rock exhibit in the American Life wing."

Her mouth dropped. "And suddenly, I like museums a lot more."

Amy laughed as they cut through the lobby. Their shoes clicked rhythmically against the marble tile. Her mouth opened to gush about how England had given them crown jewels on loan when she spotted Ian Kabra ducking into the private hallway. He'd sidestepped the velvet rope and 'OFFICIALS ONLY' poster without a second glance. She furrowed her eyebrows and unwound herself from Nellie's grasp.

"Hey, where are you going—"

"I'll be right back," Amy promised. "I'll catch up to you!"

She pushed through the doors into a wide hallway. Ian had disappeared. The area was heavily restricted under normal hours as it was the only access point for the offices and underground archives. She turned down the hallway and spotted him pacing the area in front of her office. He had a glass of liquor tightly clenched in one hand, the other tugging frustratedly at his hair. He looked so upset that she almost left him alone until she remembered how much she hated his self-entitled, privileged self.

She stopped a few yards away and crossed her arms over her chest. "Ian, you can't be here."

His voice was rough. "I know. I just needed some space."

"I know this is your party, but flaunting your money doesn't give you the right to be here," she insisted.

Ian turned to her, his jaw clenched and features twisted into a terrifying glare. "Just give me a bloody second."

She didn't know why she was so determined to kick him out, but she took a few confident steps forward. "What is up with you? Did you finally get sick of the pompous douchebags? Or was it your wife turning her nose at anyone without millions in their pockets?"

He didn't respond to her and his silence fueled her anger. All of her hurt and confusion swallowed her whole.

"Or _maybe _you finally looked in the mirror and realized what an awful cheat you are? God knows I do the same, but at least I can live with the fact that I know what I want!"

"You know what you want, eh?" He broke his silence with a humorless laugh. "You spent the entire night running away from me. The other half, you sent your babysitter to keep your fiance entertained. You don't have a clue."

Her eyes narrowed into slits and she seethed. "You have no right to comment on my relationship."

"Oh really? Rosenbloom must be keeping you positively glowing if you keep coming back to me for a snog."

She practically stomped forward. In her tall shoes, they were finally closer in height and she could look at him straight in the eye. "I hate you. I can't believe I thought you changed."

He brushed off the insult, unaffected. "And I can't believe I thought you'd grown out of your naivety."

"I'm not—"

"Then tell me what you want." His amber eyes held a challenge and she was too stubborn to refuse. "Be honest with yourself for two bloody seconds and I'll give it to you."

Amy was sure he could hear her heart thrumming uncontrollably in her chest. His words held a very dangerous promise and in that moment, she decided the repercussions were worth it. Both of them had showed up to the banquet with people they were unhappy with, and while infidelity was not the answer, it was close.

"I want you to forget about Cara and I want you to kiss me."

She only had a nanosecond to register his satisfied smirk before his mouth caught hers in a desperate kiss. While it was frantic and consuming, there was nothing rushed about it. She parted her teeth and he took advantage immediately.

Ian backed away for a millisecond and icy fear trickled down her spine until he gestured at the knob. "Open the door," he ordered, voice hoarse.

Amy popped open her clutch to bring out a ring of keys. After some impatient fumbling, the lock clicked open and Ian pressed her against the back of the closed door. He placed his crystal glass on a shelf somewhere and she heard her bag hit the ground. She really hoped the designer wouldn't make her pay if it cracked.

At this point, her mind was a muddled mess and she didn't register being gently pushed across the room until she felt her desk against her thighs. She slid back across the wood, thanking herself for keeping it empty of knickknacks, and he settled in between her legs. Impatient, her hands ran up the hard ridges of his chest and she unbuttoned his shirt to reveal cinnamon skin.

Ian slowly slid the fabric of her dress down her shoulders. His fingertips flitted across her collarbone and goosebumps broke out across her skin. She could barely catch her breath once his lips found the base of her neck, travelling lower as he dropped to his knees. Her hand closed around his silk tie and she dragged him back to her mouth where she could taste the whiskey on his tongue.

His hand snuck up her thigh and her dress bunched at the waist. They were flush from shoulder to hip and her legs tightened around him. A gush of air left his lips and his warm eyes met her gaze in a silent question.

In turn, her fingers nimbly found his belt and she made her decision.

* * *

Amy's hair was a train wreck. She'd given up on trying to fix the intricate updo and took out the clips holding it together. She ran her fingers through the auburn locks in an attempt to look presentable.

She could see Ian standing a few feet away, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration as he struggled to redo his tie. She'd taken the entire thing apart after using it to tug down his neck and level the distance between them. Once she'd slid her heels back on, she moved to help him. She swatted his hands away and looped the fabric herself.

"You're just as hopeless as Dan," she sighed.

Ian wrinkled his nose. "Please don't compare me to your brother."

"Why not?" His shirt was hopelessly wrinkled and she buttoned his jacket back up. "You're both equally as dense."

He frowned at her. Her burgundy lipstick had rubbed onto his face and she laughed despite herself. She rubbed a thumb across his mouth to remove the pigment.

Ian had an uncharacteristically gentle expression. "You look beautiful," he told her.

She felt a rosy hue creeping up her neck. It was a little too late to be bashful, but he planted a languid kiss on her bruised lips.

In that moment, someone decided to try the doorknob. Amy cursed when she realized she left the keys in the lock and the door flung open.

Nellie stood in the threshold, stunned. Her jaw dropped and she struggled to find words. Ian took a long step away from Amy, but their disheveled state and the lingering smell of sex was incriminating. She was lightheaded and tried to muster an explanation.

"Everyone has been looking for you two. You'd better thank God that Lee sent me in here to find Amy instead of coming himself." Nellie had wiped all emotion and Amy knew she was saving it for later. She focused her attention on Ian. "They want you to give the closing remarks. Amy, the museum staff is waiting for directions on wrap up."

Ian cleared his throat and nodded. "I'd better come up with something," he muttered, and made a swift exit without looking at either of them.

It was only her and Nellie, and she tried to speak. "I don't know what to say. That was the first time and I swear, it'll never—"

"I don't care, Amy. You're an adult." Her voice was a lot more gentle than she expected. She had averted her gaze, as if she were embarrassed to look at her, and tears sprung to Amy's eyes. "Just know that while you were with Ian in here, Jake was outside bragging about what an incredible, honest, and intelligent woman he is marrying. Think about that before you do this."

Amy waited for Nellie to leave before she collected herself. She swallowed the lump in her throat, wondering why the tears weren't from regret— but from the realization that her relationship had become an inescapable burden. By the time she stepped back into the party, Ian had already started speaking.

Director Lee appeared at her side. He began speaking to her until he noticed her glazed expression. "Are you okay, Amy?"

She turned to him, dismissing his concern. "I'm just a little tired. Don't worry, I'll take over and get the entire thing cleaned up," she promised.

He smiled understandingly and Jake replaced him next to her. She winced when his hand settled on her lower back.

"I told you," he muttered to her, "your hair looks better down. I'm so proud of you for tonight."

She squeezed her eyes shut and redirected her attention to the man at the front of the room. She was neck deep in remorse and needed a distraction. Every inch of her skin still burned from Ian's touch.

"... so, I would like to say a few words as our event comes to a close."

His amber eyes were trained on her from across the room as he gave his final speech. He raised his glass in a toast, and in turn, the entire room did as well.

"To the people that helped me build Kabra LLC into the fortress it is today. To the investors, executives, and donors that believed in my vision. To my sister, who would have been the perfect cheerleader through the long nights. To my beloved Cara, for standing by my side all these years. And lastly," he paused, and she saw him swallow hard, "to the American Museum and Director Cahill for making this memorable night possible. Cheers."


	8. the hookup(s), cont

**AN: **I am so grateful for everyone's reviews and feedback! It takes eons to edit every chapter and make sure I sprinkle in subtle details. If everyone is conflicted about whose side to take, then I'm doing my job right. Ian and Amy are definitely in the wrong here, though it can be argued that their spouses are too. Their thought processes have gotten bitter, angry, and downright rude towards their own (and each others') partners as a result of their affair.

The last chapter turned out ridiculously long - 7000 words, or something - so I decided to split it in half. My goal is to pull the reader back and forth for a few chapters, so you can have equal doses of romance and shitty behavior from our many couples, haha.

Enjoy, and please feel free to leave some feedback!

**Disclaimer: **All unoriginal content, characters, and plots taken from the authors of __The 39 Clues__. Everything else is my own creative content, and copying is not permitted.

**THE ROOFTOP RESTAURANT  
****8: the hookup(s), cont.**

_May 2022_

"Miss Cahill, I have the Ekaterina leader on the line for you. What would you like me to do?"

Amy put the English ambassador to Greece on hold. "Take the call yourself. Stall. Try to get them to give up whatever it is that they want."

The Madrigal lieutenant was apprehensive and she gave him an encouraging nod. "Hurry! She's already hung up on us four times."

"Miss Cahill, the acting Prime Minister of Greece has picked up the phone."

"Okay, Mr. Chase, I appreciate all the work you do for the Madrigals. Please keep an ear out if you hear anything else! I have a call I need to take." She put the phone down and swapped with her secretary, mouthing a grateful _thank you._ "Prime Minister Alexopoulos, I need you to think about what you are doing. If you seize control of the country on behalf of the Tomas and turn it into a military state, the other branches will rally up their political parties and respond in turn… Yes, I understand the Lucians are— that is a ridiculous ultimatum and you know it!"

She slammed the phone back into the receiver and Jake nearly jumped out of his skin. They were in the communications room and it was chaos. He smiled wryly at her. He had offered to join her in the stronghold at midnight while she tried to navigate around the timezone to clean up a geopolitical mess.

"Just a typical Thursday morning, huh?" he teased. He had noticed how high strung she had been, and misinterpreted as Cahill-related stress. Not to say that the branches weren't causing trouble, but she usually left her work at home. Her situation with Ian, however, followed her everywhere.

"Sarah," Amy called across the room. No one could hear her and she raised her voice. "Sarah Castillo!"

The whole room was silent for a beat before the ruckus continued. Sarah stared at her, a little terrified, and came to her side.

"Could you please book a flight for me from New York to Greece? Preferably as early as possible on Sunday morning from JFK International."

Jake stood up in protest. "Amy, _no. _That is too dangerous. Don't book that flight."

Sarah stood in between them, her eyes wide and unsure as to whether she should have been listening to her leader's fiance.

"Book the flight. If the Lucians are shipping their leader into the crisis zone, then I'm going in."

"Amy—"

"Don't do this to me, Jake. I am the leader of this godforsaken branch and I think I know what's best."

Her sharp words stunned him into silence and she saw his jaw clench as he frowned. She regretted her outburst immediately. She _never _used her position in an argument, but his lack of involvement and understanding was grating on her last nerve.

"Jake, I'm so sorry."

"I think I'll get out of your way." He untangled himself from a dozen phone cords.

"You don't have to do that. I shouldn't have snapped at you."

The space between his eyebrows was creased from tension. "You're fine. I overstepped. I'll see you when I get home?"

She exhaled. "I have to fly out to New York in a few hours. After that, I don't know how many days I'll be stuck in Greece."

Jake's ears were turning red in a tell-tale sign that he was agitated, but they were in a public space and he kept it civil. "Okay. Stay safe and call me when you can."

When he leaned over to kiss her, she looped her arms around his neck to keep him close. "Come visit me next week, okay?"

He was nowhere near as agreeable as she thought he'd be and he slipped out of her grasp. "I'll see," he said curtly, and disappeared out the door.

Amy plopped back into her seat and dropped her head into her hands. She wouldn't be seeing him for over a week. She didn't feel the same pang of sadness from the first time he had dropped her off at the airport. The indescribable relief of getting away from her obligations to Jake made her head pound.

"Uh, Miss Cahill?"

She looked up to the entire room observing her breakdown. Lieutenant Garcia had a phone in his hand.

"I'm really sorry to disturb you but the Prime Minister is back on the line."

She returned to the American Museum a few hours later, eyes bloodshot from sleep deprivation. The museum had been closed the Saturday after the banquet, but the extra day of rest had transformed into a twelve-hour catastrophe at the Madrigal stronghold. She hadn't been back in her office since the tryst with Ian and one look at her desk made her entire body flush red.

She borrowed a container of Clorox wipes from the cleaning crew and scrubbed every surface. The stale glass of whiskey was still on her bookshelf and she chucked the crystal cup into the trash. Neither of them had reached out after the embarrassingly raunchy escapade. She wondered if the confession he dragged out of her was simply another tool to inflate his own ego. While she was beyond mortified with herself for being unfaithful, she was a little bit proud for standing her ground against Ian.

As if reading her mind, her phone buzzed against her thigh.

[Ian] Before I say anything, are you done pitying yourself?

[Amy] How did you know I was back in the city?

[Ian] You're the one that told me you worked Thursdays, love.

[Amy] Oh.

[Amy] To answer your question, no. I never started.

[Ian] Good. I'll see you Saturday night. We're going out.

Amy rolled her eyes. She knew this was the best time to decline, to cut off their correspondence, to end whatever was happening between them— but her awful morning with Jake had erased her hesitation. She chewed on her lip and remembered she still had one more thing to sort out. She dialed Nellie's number.

"So early, kiddo? Everything okay?"

Amy was glad her relationship with Nellie was back to normal so quickly and thought the least she could do was apologize to her for dragging her into her mess. "I'm looking at Broadway tickets right now and your favorite band is playing on Friday."

She heard a gasp. "No it isn't."

"Yeah, it is. We haven't done something fun ever since we both got swamped…"

"Oh, Amy." Nellie's sigh was heavy. "You don't have to do this. I need to remember that you're a grown-up and it isn't my place to boss you around."

Amy closed her eyes and frowned. "I know, but you were right. Can we put that behind us and have a night out? Please?"

There was a pregnant pause before she conceded. "Order those tickets. You'd better buy me drinks afterwards, too."

She grinned.

* * *

"Ian, I am not taking a taxi when we can walk four blocks."

He frowned at her. They were at a standstill in the restaurant lobby after dinner, staring outside.

"It's _raining. _This suit is Armani."

"It's drizzling," she corrected. "You are everything wrong with the planet right now."

He snorted. "Amy, I seriously doubt I single-handedly caused global warming. We are in one of the most polluted cities on earth."

Amy had already left him inside and was staring expectantly through the glass doors. He sighed, cursing himself for associating with such a bullheaded woman.

They started walking in the direction of the Kabra LLC headquarters after he promised her a tour of his company building. They had abandoned their usual rooftop for a small Italian restaurant much closer. As they walked in silence, the air heavy from humidity, their arms brushed together with every step.

She hesitated before asking him a vaguely worded question. "Where are you supposed to be tonight?"

"I stay late at the office regularly. I have a flat next door so I don't need to drive all the way home in the middle of the night. Cara usually doesn't notice anyway."

Amy nodded slowly, watching the tiny droplets of water soak into the sleeves of her blouse.

He smiled wryly. "Amy, you need to relax."

She looked up at him. "I _am _relaxed."

"I can practically see you reevaluating your morals, love."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Reading me," she said, immediately feeling stupid once she caught the amusement dancing in his eyes. "You're dissecting me. I can see you doing it."

"Once a businessman, always a businessman I suppose."

She shook her head, her ponytail swinging. "_Lucian_, you mean," she corrected.

The rain had shifted from a light drizzle to fat droplets and Ian scowled. "I told you we should've taken a cab."

Amy opened her mouth to call him a priss, but a loud rumble of thunder interrupted her. The sky opened and a downpour started. They had only crossed two blocks and she laughed, her eyes squinted as she looked up at the night sky. The traffic had slowed and taxi drivers stared through their windows as if they were crazy— no umbrella, no jacket, grinning like idiots in the middle of a storm.

Ian's inky black hair splayed across his forehead and his nose wrinkled as he quickened his pace. "I am never listening to you again."

She shivered as the cold water seeped through their clothes. Her soaking pants weighed her down and her flats squelched uncomfortably. "Oh, come on," she tossed over her shoulder. "Don't be a baby, Ian!"

Instead of running for another block like she expected, he pulled her into a towering building. When he greeted the doorman and continued inside, she glanced at him in confusion. She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing, he looked like a drenched puppy.

"What are we doing here? This isn't your office," she stupidly observed.

He pressed the button to the elevator and frowned at the trail of water they left in their wake. "We're getting dried in my flat. I'm not going to be caught dead looking like this in front of my employees."

Unlike her cozy brownstone apartment, his building was sleek and modern. The shiny tiled floors reflected an enormous chandelier overheard, and plush seating decorated the lobby. When they stepped into the elevator, she wasn't the least surprised to see him press the penthouse floor. He opened the door to reveal a sparsely decorated—but lavish, nonetheless—suite.

The entire space was white, from the sophisticated couches to the empty coffee table. The dark wooden floors stretched into a marble kitchen with updated silver appliances and bright lights. The only pop of color in the space was a red Persian rug in the living room, and a small potted plant on the island counter. He closed the door behind them and led her to the back: a bedroom. She couldn't believe someone lived in the space, as the white sheets were pristine, floors spotless, and clothing tucked away behind towering closet doors. The entire apartment had floor to ceiling windows and she wandered to look outside while Ian went into the bathroom.

It was even better than the _Ophelia_. They were higher up and in the heart of Manhattan. A thick layer of fog settled over the city, but she could still see glittering lights peeking through. Skyscrapers blended with the night sky and she could see the rain sprinkling down from the dark abyss.

She saw Ian stop behind her in the reflection of the glass and she turned around. "This is amazing," she sighed.

He handed her a fluffy towel. "You've certainly outgrown your fear of heights," he observed, recounting the clue hunt.

She shrugged and wrung out her damp hair. He noticed her auburn locks had turned dark brown.

"There's a blow dryer in the bathroom. I can try to see if anything of mine fits you, otherwise I can get you a robe and we'll throw your clothes in the dryer," he told her.

Amy nodded, and after a beat of silence, she spoke up again. "It's so empty here."

He turned away and pursed his lips. "This is one of my private properties. I come home after long days in the office, and would rather sleep someplace clean and uncluttered to get my mind off work."

In other words, Cara had never been here.

She watched him slide open the closet door. His white button down was soaked through and she could see the muscles contorting as he moved. She crossed the room and gingerly touched his shoulder. When he turned around, Amy stood on her toes and kissed him.

Unlike every other time they had frantically touched one another, this kiss was languid and slow. Her fingers traced his jawline and his hand tangled in her hair as he slanted his mouth against hers. He moved as if he had all the time in the world to soak her in and it made her head spin. While he continued kissing her, she leisurely undid each button on his shirt. She pushed the wet fabric off of his shoulders and it landed on the floor with a plop.

She pulled away for a second, her heart beating out of her chest. Everything about Ian Kabra was hard ridges and sharp angles. He pulled her blouse off and tugged her flush against him. He was warm under her cool hands and a shiver trickled down her spine. She sighed as he peppered kisses over her chest and lower, unclasping her pants and sliding them down her legs.

Moments afterwards, Amy tucked herself into his side. They were bundled in soft blankets and thousand thread-count sheets, though the heat radiating from his body was more than enough to keep her warm. She felt his heart thrumming steadily under her palm.

"Admit it: you only offered me that tour because you knew you'd get me in your bed."

He gave a sleepy chuckle, twirling a lock of red hair around his index finger.

"Guilty."

"Do you usually spend weekends at work?" she asked.

"Unfortunately. I haven't had more than a few days off in years." He paused. "However, I'm taking a small solo vacation for a few days."

She closed her eyes and listened to his voice. "Where are you going?"

"Greece."

Amy popped her head up to look at his face. "Wait, _I'm _going to Greece. I'm flying out tomorrow."

His lips twisted into a lazy smirk. "What a pleasant coincidence."

She tried to put together the pieces. "The only reason I'm going is because the Lucians are sending their leader directly inside to sway the Prime Minister. You aren't the leader, though— Trevor Stefanic took over in your place."

Ian knew it wouldn't take her long. "You're looking at the acting international branch representative, Amy."

She gasped, and smacked his arm. He visibly winced but she couldn't be bothered to apologize. "You sneak! I'm literally sleeping with the enemy!"

"You are," he agreed, laughing when she tried to hit him again. "I promise we won't be in each other's way. Stefanic is an idiot for thinking the Lucians deserve Greece and it's the first step to taking my branch back."

Amy remembered catching a glance of the branch insignia on his back, the red serpent symbolizing the branch leader. She should have known he would bring himself into a place of power before taking back what was his. Ian was incredibly patient and made it abundantly clear that he hadn't returned to the Cahills without reason.

She sighed, laying back down. "I swear, if you try to use this against me—"

He pressed his lips against her temple. "Have some faith in me, Amy. Besides, everyone has their own narrow-minded motives and the Lucians are big picture strategists."

Amy smiled against his skin. "Yeah, yeah. Being the superior branch and all."

He furrowed his eyebrows and shifted her so he could look her in the eye.

"Are you mocking me?"

"I might be."

He rolled his eyes and they fell into a comfortable silence again. He thought she had fallen asleep, until she spoke up again.

"What had you so upset during the banquet?"

Ian frowned. He knew she would ask that question eventually and there was no harm in telling her the truth. "Rutherford tried to get back in touch with Cara. She told me she was still thinking about it, but I caught her taking a call from him."

She pursed her lips as she processed the information. "What does her mother think about all of this?"

"She doesn't know. He contacted Galt, but he declined. Guess Cara didn't think to do the same despite the fact that he tried to kill me _multiple _times."

Amy frowned. "Oh. I'm so sorry, Ian."

Ian chuckled, rolling them over and bracing himself over her. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips.

"That is nothing for you to be concerned about," he told her, and his hands were enough to distract her.

Amy woke up to an empty bed hours later. Her hand stretched out to reach Ian, but the other side of the mattress was cold. She furrowed her eyebrows, her grogginess disappearing. Her clothes were folded next to her bed, freshly laundered. Her body was still sore and begged her to go back to sleep, but she slipped on the previous night's outfit and lumbered into the kitchen.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee floated across the apartment. Ian stood at the window, sipped at a mug and watched the sun rise over the skyline. He heard her come in and turned around with a smirk.

"Here I was, thinking you would miss your flight and I'd beat you to Greece."

She rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around his waist. "And miss the chance to out-negotiate the Lucians? Never."

He chuckled. "Let's keep the competition friendly, shall we?"

His hair was still damp from a shower and she inhaled the smell of musk. "Come find me in Athens," she told him.

His lips met hers in promise.


	9. the date(s)

**AN: **This chapter is a _lot _more romantic, despite the chaos in the first half of the chapter. The sappy part of me really enjoyed writing the last scene so please let me know what you think! Savor the fluff, you're not going to get much before things start getting messy for these two. This is also a fun game of "who fell for who first?", haha.

**Disclaimer: **All unoriginal content, characters, and plots taken from the authors of __The 39 Clues__. Everything else is my own creative content, and copying is not permitted.

**THE ROOFTOP RESTAURANT  
****9: the date(s)**

Amy's navy blue blazer flew across the room and landed slung over the back of a chair. She tilted her head to the side as Ian took advantage of the newly exposed skin.

The entire trip to Greece, filled with heated debates, backstabbing Cahills, and expert liars had made her extremely paranoid. She bit down on her lip and pulled back to speak. "No one can know about this."

Ian gave her an amused look and a grin tugged at his lips. "That's the point of this entire relationship, Amy."

A rosy hue spread across her cheeks at the mention of their infidelity and she pushed his chest lightly when he tried to kiss her. "No, that's not what I mean. No one can know we are friends. It'll look like our branches are conspiring."

He raised an eyebrow, skeptical about what she was asking of him. "So you want us to purposefully act like we hate each other?"

"Uh… yes?" The way he was looking at her made her unsure.

Ian considered that for a moment and shrugged. "If you say so."

Amy walked into the Greek Parliament building a few moments later. Instead of normal politicians, it was filled with some of the most powerful Cahills. The debt-crisis in Greece had attracted a lot of attention, and in turn, the branches struggled to take advantage of the conflict and retain control of the region. Unfortunately, that meant an entire nation was at stake and the Madrigals were forced to step in.

"Please rise for the five branch leaders."

Amy was met with disdainful frowns as she filed in behind the rest of the branch leaders. They took their seat in the first row, while the ruling Tomas prime minister and his branch took the elevated stands.

"Cora Wizard, the Janus. Interim ambassador Ian Kabra, the Lucians. Ivan Kleister, the Tomas. Susan Oh, the Ekaterina. Amelia Cahill, the Madrigals."

Ivan had seated himself next to the Prime Minister and Amy met his glare. None of this would be happening had she not raised attention to his wrongdoings, and he was well aware of the fact.

"Now, considering that the Madrigals were the ones to bring about this entire mess, I suggest Miss Cahill serve as moderator," Ivan suggested.

Amy narrowed her eyes and leaned into the microphone. While normally, she would be mortified to be speaking in such a large room with hundreds of people, she was too focused to care otherwise.

"I appreciate your clever attempt to silence me, Ivan. If you recall, the moderator is not permitted to voice an opinion," she started, and a snicker rumbled through the room. "If he accepts, I think Ivan should serve this position. After all, his branch has claimed the Greek government and he has ample representation."

The arrogance had disappeared from the Tomas' expression and he watched as the entire room overwhelmingly voted in her favor.

"Fine," he grunted. The broad shouldered man moved to the podium, his face purple. "I suppose we'll go through opening statements according to leader seniority, unless Amy has a problem with that too?"

Though a flush crept up her neck, she smiled sweetly. "No, that sounds fine."

Amy grew frustrated as the statements turned into tedious thirty-minute speeches. Every branch restated the same arguments she had been fighting for the past year. The Janus wanted to remain uninvolved in the Mediterranean, and would choose an ally as they saw fit. The Ekaterina wanted to repair the economy by bolstering trade and turning Greece into a technological powerhouse. The Tomas thought the country was too unstable to withstand an election and the only road to recovery would be to transform it into a military state. All the Madrigals wanted was peace, and she made sure to restate her point a dozen times.

By the time Ian had reached the stage, Amy was falling asleep. As a simple representative, he was the last to take his turn. She watched him speak and it became apparent that he had taken advantage of the extra time and prepared a ruthless rebuttal. It didn't take long for her name to pop up in his argument.

"... and as we reach the climax of yet another family skirmish, I would like you to think: do we really want the Madrigals meddling? Unelected and chosen by blood— these people have voted themselves the peacekeepers of the Cahill world. With all due respect Amy Cahill, but I will not be taking a lesson on democracy by your branch."

A quiet murmur swept through the room. Ian's words had made an impact, and she could see several people swaying in his favor. A silent consensus had been reached against her branch and she needed to fix it fast.

Ivan called for a short intermission and Amy regrouped with the Madrigals, a mix of members from within the region and back home. The only way to retain any semblance of control was by aligning herself with one of the branches and hoping the Janus fell into line.

Ian brushed past her as she made her way back to her seat. He was smirking down at her with an incredibly self-satisfied expression.

"Believable enough?"

"You represent your branch, I represent mine. It's game on, Kabra."

He grinned, visibly pleased at the fire in her eyes, and accepted the challenge.

* * *

"While the Lucians have no interest in pursuing leadership within the Greek council, I believe we have a responsibility to keep the Madrigals in check—"

"That is ridiculous and everyone in this building knows it. This is a disgusting attempt by the Lucian party to discredit the Madrigals and I find it extremely offensive—"

"Well, the fact that you expect us to accept your endorsement for the Ekaterina without question is what's pure rubbish—"

"You're overstepping, Mr. Kabra, if you think you are going to undermine my branch. Pray tell, how many presidents have the Lucians purposefully overthrown, without any consideration for the people and purely for their own benefit?"

"None, Miss Cahill, unless you have proof of a malicious rumor intended to stereotype the Lucians as untrustworthy."

Amy popped out of her seat. "That's ironic, you were trying to do the same to the Madrigals only moments ago!"

"Oh, bloody hell, is it a sin to ask for your motives, or are you unquestionable?"

"Motion to silence Ian Kabra for slander and disrespect—"

Ian stood up to glare at her from across the room. "Is that a _joke_? Someone needs to hold Amy Cahill accountable for ruthless attacks on the Lucians' moral character—"

"Moral character! Do you people even know what that means?"

"We know more about it than your branch does about democracy—"

A loud bang interrupted their rapid-fire argument and the two branch representatives looked up to see Ivan with his fist against the podium. When he registered that he had successfully gotten their attention, he rubbed his temples to ward off a headache. The rest of the room was in a similar state, mouths dropped open as they observed the heated and passionate debate.

"Shut. _Up_," Ivan growled, impervious to professionalism. "Does anyone—other than the Lucians and Madrigals—have anything productive to contribute to this conversation?"

Cora Wizard raised her hand and took it as an opportunity to interject her own opinion, now that the two most outspoken people had been silenced. The woman had aged gracefully, streaks of grey hair sprinkled through her braids and her coffee skin just as smooth as it had been a decade ago.

"The Janus have made their decision. We would like to formally endorse the Ekaterina as the political patrons of Greece, granted they are held responsible for repairing its socio-economic conditions." She turned to Amy, though, and didn't even give her a second to be triumphant. "_However_, Mr. Kabra's concerns have been heard loud and clear. I would also like to put onto the table a thorough investigation into the ethics of Madrigal peacekeeping efforts, headed by the Tomas if they accept my proposition."

A murmur swept through the room as Cora's multifaceted deal was considered by everyone. While it was only day three of negotiations, the problem had been going on for over a year. There was not a single loser in the room— save for Prime Minister Alexopoulos, who didn't seem to accept any turnout without him as ruler. A sweeping number of hands were raised as Cora called for a vote.

Amy had to stop herself from laughing when she saw the prime minister's reaction at Ivan's thoughtful nod. "I believe withdrawing from the region would be good for the Tomas. We accept as well and will work with the legislators from each branch to put this into writing."

When the room stayed silent, he lifted the gavel with a tired grunt. "This session is dismissed."

Ian didn't make a move to speak with her, nor did she. As the five branches filtered out of the room, she felt a small square of paper press into her palm. She pressed her lips together to hide a smile and met him the next evening tucked in the alleyways of Santorini. They had agreed that meeting in Athens was extremely risky, considering the hundreds of Cahills that had gathered to witness the Greece negotiations. Ian had sent her a note with an address a short flight away in the small island, promising her that he knew a place that was quiet, secluded, and Cahill-free.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they strolled through white walkways. The sun had set moments ago and the sky was glowing with shades of orange and purple. They were far from tourist hotspots and a few dozen locals milled around them.

Amy leaned into him. "I'm going to have to do some serious damage control," she mumbled against his shirt.

His chest rumbled with a chuckle and she knew that he understood what she was talking about. "Then I did my job right."

She smiled and her shoulders dropped in relief. Their scalding exchanges in the parliament building were behind them and she appreciated the way Ian was able to separate work and their personal lives. It was something she always struggled with Jake— the man was extremely sensitive to her leadership at the Madrigal stronghold and the tension often followed them home. If it wasn't their involvement with the branches, then a fight was bound to breakout about her museum work or the abuse he was enduring in his lab.

They stopped at a ledge overlooking the Aegean Sea. She could smell the smoke and fire pits in the restaurants around them mixed with the salty sea water. The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below was soothing and she closed her eyes as a light breeze ruffled her hair.

"I thought you had work in the morning. Did you take a day off?" he asked.

She shook her head and looked up at him. His hands were in his pockets now and he leaned back against the stone barrier blocking the cliff below. "I cancelled. I spent the day catching up with Cora and I figured I could relax tonight, before heading back to New York."

He gave her a wicked grin that made her body overheat. "Who said I was going to let you relax?"

"Ian…" she muttered, watching him step closer. They had never kissed in public.

His lips ghosted over hers. "I have a very nice friend that rents out her home. It's perfectly isolated from the tourists."

Amy frowned. "Only if you let me pay."

"I have more money than I need. Don't worry about it."

"Ian—"

"This is a date, Amy. I am a very traditional man."

That made her stop. "A date," she repeated.

Ian seemed to visibly backtrack at his slip of tongue and pulled away a few inches. "That's not what I meant. I had meetings all day and I can't seem to get my words straight."

She had never seen him embarrassed and decided to relish in the moment. "Really? What meetings?" she pressed. "And why can't this be a date?"

He gave her an exasperated look. "I could always take the house off the table."

Amy narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't be a tease."

His lips quirked upwards and he was visibly stifling a grin. "Really, I could. I had all sorts of things planned for you, but I suppose we could take a boat back—"

She wrapped her fingers around the collar of his shirt to pull him down to eye-level and he stopped talking abruptly.

"Ian?"

His amber eyes were glimmering with amusement. "Yes, love?"

"Shut up and take me to the house."

* * *

_July 2022_

[Ian] Back in Attleboro yet?

[Amy] Nope. I am staying the full week to fill in for James.

[Amy] See you Saturday?

[Ian] I'll meet you at your place.

Amy didn't return to Boston.

Ian wondered what happened between her and Jake. She had always flown back to her fiance on Sundays, but it had been a few weeks since the fourth of July holiday and she hadn't gone home since. He knew it wasn't any different from what he had been doing. Seeing Cara had been a chore and every time she tried to talk to him, leaned over for a kiss— he could barely stop himself from wincing. He found himself spending an obscene amount of hours at the Kabra LLC building, and nights in his private flat. They had grown apart by their own doing and he substituted his loneliness with Amy's company.

He drove to a cozy brownstone apartment nestled in between a row of similar homes in the northern side of Manhattan. A resident ducked outside and he caught the door before it locked. He climbed the stairs to the second floor of the building. He furrowed his eyebrows when no one answered his knock; he twisted the doorknob and it easily gave way. He knew he should have waited for her, but a brief bout of fear made his heart clench. Amy was smarter than leaving her front door unlocked in the middle of the city, no matter how safe an area she lived in.

The faint hum of music drifted from the back of the apartment. The wooden floors creaked under his footsteps and he smiled at the little indicators of her personality: a messy stack of books and papers on the coffee table, framed photos of her parents, boxes of tea and coffee on the kitchen counter.

He followed the music to the bathroom and raised his eyebrows when he saw the door was ajar. He leaned against the threshold and his lips quirked upwards.

Amy was half-asleep in the tub. Her hair was twisted into a messy knot and her skin was glowing from the hot water. She looked beautiful— long lashes casting a shadow over her face, a rosy hue on her cheeks and spread over her bare shoulders.

"You left the door unlocked," he said accusingly.

She cracked open her eyes and sank lower into the bubbly bathwater. He could smell a mix of lavender and rose oil.

"I know. I didn't know how long you would be and didn't want to lock you out if I was still in here."

Ian slipped off his shoes and he saw her sleepy gaze watch him as he unbuttoned his shirt.

"What are you doing?"

His pants joined the pile on the floor and he looked at her as if the answer was obvious. "Joining you. Move over."

Amy gave him a half-hearted glare and mumbled something about "disrupting the peace" before she settled back against his chest. Their legs tangled together and he wrinkled his nose as her hair tickled his skin.

"Did you lock the door behind you?" she asked him.

His fingers moved in feather like touches against her thigh and he felt her shiver. "Yes, Amy. I value safety, unlike you."

She laughed quietly, but the sound was tired. He frowned and shifted her in his arms so that he could see her face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's been a long week."

"Rubbish. Tell me what's on your mind, love."

As usual, she visibly blushed at the pet name. She tilted her head back to glare at him.

"_Ian._ I'm okay."

He mimicked her tone. "_Amy_. I won't stop asking."

She crossed her arms and brought her knees up, effectively closing him off. After a few minutes, the soft music filling the silence, he was surprised to hear her speak up.

"I had another fight with Jake. He called a few hours ago."

He noticed the word _another _and tried to keep his curiosity at bay. "Really?"

"I haven't been home since Independence Day. He was bugging me about how I don't prioritize our relationship. Then, he called me when I got back and he told me he wanted me to leave my job, or leave him."

He hoped she couldn't tell how hard his heart was pounding. Jake Rosenbloom made him angry, but it wasn't the kind from when he was a green-faced teenager. He was furious at how selfish and demanding the man was. While a small part of him knew that there was a slim chance of them leaving their partners and being together, Amy deserved better.

"We spoke today and he called me out for hiding here in New York for the past three weeks. He isn't wrong, but we both said some horrible things to one another and—" Her voice cracked and she looked straight ahead, rubbing her eyes. "He gave me the same ultimatum. I know I'm the one at fault, but why can't I have both?"

Ian pressed his lips against her temple. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. As much as he wanted to, it wasn't his place to give his opinion.

"Three weeks," she sighed. "What kind of person refuses to see their fiance for three weeks?"

He kissed her shoulder. "He's a bloody idiot for treating you this way."

Amy exhaled. "I'm sorry. I really don't want to think about Jake," she said decidedly. "I'll shut up about it."

Ian remained quiet as she sunk even lower until she was shoulder deep, her cheek pressed against his chest. His arm wrapped around her torso and his palm stretched over her abdomen. She took his other hand and laced their fingers together.

He chuckled at her wrinkled fingertips. "How long have you been in here?"

"Too long," she mumbled. "Ten more minutes. I like being here with you."

Ian's heart clenched a second time and in that moment, he knew they had reached the point of no return.


	10. the word(s)

**AN: **Please enjoy, and be sure to leave a review!

**Disclaimer: **All unoriginal content, characters, and plots taken from the authors of __The 39 Clues__. Everything else is my own creative content, and copying is not permitted.

**THE ROOFTOP RESTAURANT  
****10: the word(s)**

_September 2022_

Amy swore under her breath as another bout of coughs seized her chest. Her lungs burned as she gasped for air and she miserably laid back in bed. Her heater was broken and instead of calling the landlord right away like she should have, she had put her work first and waited too long. The chilly fall air had seeped into her apartment and soon enough, she had caught a cold.

She knew she looked awful: bundled into a dozen blankets, hair in a knotted braid, nose bright red and skin pale. To make things worse, Labor Day weekend had been an awkward disaster. As much as she loved Jake, their heated fight in July had put a damper on their relationship. In an effort to undo the damage, he had vowed to do better and be more patient. Unfortunately, that meant renewing their intimate life, too. She couldn't bring herself to sleep with another man—ironic, considering she was cheating on him and readily sleeping with _Ian_—and the mortifying situation escalated as he took issue with her refusal.

Their phone call this week had been curt and distant, and she broke into fresh tears immediately after. It was Friday, and she dreaded going home Sunday morning. She was stressed enough, as the museum had placed her on the official search committee for a permanently executive co-director. The interviews quickly pushed her into a bout of anxiety. July was less than a year away, which meant she would have to leave her brownstone behind and move back to Attleboro.

Amy heard a knock on her door and she groaned. She had made weekly plans with Ian and had been so wrapped up in her cold that she forgot to cancel. She glared at her laptop, set it on the nightstand, and gingerly climbed out of bed.

She opened the door and barely registered Ian frowning at her pathetic state. She didn't even pay attention to the paper bag of groceries in his arms— instead, she was too busy gaping at his outfit.

Her mouth dropped open. "You're wearing _jeans_. And a sweatshirt!" She couldn't believe her eyes and stared at the Oxford pullover under his jacket. "Are you okay? Do you have a fever?"

Ian rolled his eyes and swatted her hand away when she tried to touch his forehead. "I should be asking _you _that question."

"My apartment is freezing and I have a cold." She waved off his concern. "I have never seen you in anything except a suit. Why are you wearing jeans?"

"They're Burberry," he answered, his tone annoyed as she scrutinized his apparel.

She snorted and let him inside. "Of course they are. What about that sweatshirt?"

He grinned. "I got it at my college bookstore eight years ago. It was thirty euros."

Amy laughed as she replaced the chain lock and finally paid attention to the food he was pulling out of the bag. "Why did you bring groceries?"

"I thought I'd make you dinner." He shrugged off his jacket and eyed her state of illness. "And some soup. You didn't tell me you weren't feeling well."

She shrugged and slid onto a barstool, watching him shuffle through her drawers. "I didn't know you could cook. Don't you have a chef at home?"

He was going through her fridge now and shot a glance over his shoulder. "I'm not completely inept, Amy. I took some lessons."

"You had to take _lessons_?" she giggled. She enjoyed watching his ears turn red as she teased him.

Ian pulled out an unopened box of chicken broth from her refrigerator and frowned at her. "Just wait until you try my food before you start making fun of me."

Amy leaned her elbows against the counter and propped her head up in her hands as she watched him cook. Occasionally, he would shuffle through her drawers, come up empty handed and ask where she stored her kitchenware.

She wrapped her arms around herself, having abandoned her blankets in the bedroom, and shivered at the cold.

Ian had just placed the lid over the soup, bringing it down to a simmer. His eyebrows knitted together in concern. "When is your heater getting fixed?"

"The repairman is coming on Wednesday. I'm stuck in this icebox until then."

"Did you call in sick for tomorrow?" When she sheepishly grinned, he sighed in exasperation. "_Amy_."

"I can go! I'll be fine by tomorrow morning. I went to work today and I was fine." As if on cue, she coughed again.

Ian was unconvinced. "Call in sick. Now."

"But—"

"Right now."

She groaned, picked up her cell phone and typed out a short email. She made sure to hold up the screen for his approval as she hit the send button.

"Happy now?"

"Very."

A shiver raked through her body and she saw Ian visibly frown. He slipped off his Oxford University sweatshirt and pulled it over her head. She started to protest as he knocked off the hood and tried to help her pull her arms through the sleeves.

"Ian, you don't need to—" She stuttered to a stop when she was immediately enveloped in warmth and the smell of his woody musk surrounded her like a cocoon. "_Oh._ I'm keeping this."

He grinned at her. "Now, go watch TV. I'll finish up dinner."

Amy curled up on the couch and turned on the news. Every so often she'd hear a loud noise and glance behind her, only to be on the receiving end of a glare and an order to trust him. Nearly an hour later, Ian set a plate of sauteed vegetables and grilled chicken onto the coffee table and handed her a bowl of steaming soup. She tried to grab the plate but he gave her a firm glower.

"Soup first."

Amy pouted and hesitantly brought a spoonful to her mouth. She closed her eyes as the liquid slid down her throat, warming her from head to toe. Before she could register what she was saying, the words slipped.

"Oh my God. I think I love you," she sighed.

The reaction was immediate. A forkful of potatoes was frozen between his plate and his mouth and he stiffened besides her on the couch. Combined with her fever, the flush that spread through her body set her on fire.

"Crap. I didn't— it's just that— I don't know why I said—" she stammered.

Ian cleared his throat and picked up the remote, flipping through the channels. His lips were twitching but he calmly pretended as if nothing happened.

"What movie do you want to watch?"

Amy prayed that the floor would swallow her whole.

* * *

_October 2022_

Ian undid his tie for the dozenth time. He'd wasted the past several minutes trying to replicate a Windsor knot and he resisted the urge to chuck the black fabric back into his closet. He heard the click of heels and an incredulous laugh as his wife walked into the bathroom.

"You can't be serious, Ian," she sighed, and took it from his hands. "You've been wearing suits for ten years."

He watched her easily twist the tie into a knot and tighten it around his neck. "I have better things to do," he grunted.

She rolled her eyes and smoothed the labels of his jacket. They were dressed for another one of their annual galas, and Ian mentally prepared himself for a night of boring and forced conversation. Usually, Cara was the perfect distraction and made the dinners tolerable. Lately, he could barely bring himself to leave his office and come home to her.

She was dressed in a red silk gown that contrasted her porcelain skin. Her white-blonde hair settled on her shoulders in loose ringlets. With black eyeliner and scarlet lipstick, she was the epitome of Hollywood glamor. A sparkling diamond necklace settled over her throat and Ian stared at the jewels he'd gotten her for her birthday. The expensive jewelry and tolerant behavior was a shameless effort to distract her from the fact that her husband was a lying cheat.

Cara had turned to the mirror to dab at her lipstick. "Please try to act like you're having a good time," she pleaded. "And be nice to the Wilsons. The husband is up for ambassadorship in the UN and we don't want to burn any bridges."

He simply grunted in response and picked up a pair of cufflinks. Cara stood in front of him with a brilliant smile on her face in an attempt to fix his mood.

"I love you," she told him, pressing a chaste peck to his lips.

He repeated the same words he'd recited to her hundreds of times in the past three years. This time, however, they left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Derek and Lizzie Wilson were the king and queen of political dinners. They hosted annual galas to raise money for their favorite politicians and always invited New York's rich and famous. The entire affair was exhausting, and Ian often found himself at the bar while Cara schmoozed her way through the crowd and picked up clients while flirting with a Congressional candidate.

A woman stepped up to the bar to ask for a martini. She glanced at his face and did a double-take— Ian groaned when he realized who she was.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is."

Nellie Gomez had an amused expression as she examined him, her hands on her hips. She was dressed in a simple black dress, her hair in a slick ponytail and an atrocious ruby stud in her nose.

"Bloody hell," he grumbled. "Why are _you_ here?"

His tone was sharper than he intended and she peered at him with narrowed eyes over her martini. "I work at the United Nations. I've made a friend of two."

"Social climbing looks good on you," Ian noted.

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks. When are you planning on pulling that stick out of your ass?"

"Very funny. You're lucky that I like Amy, or else—"

Ian cut off abruptly when he realized what he had said. He groaned, blamed the glass of whiskey in front of him, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Nellie jumped on the opportunity to gossip about her friend like a chained Rottweiler. "So you've seen her after that little incident at the banquet?" she asked, leaning against the bar stool and doing an awful job at trying to be casual.

He frowned. "Did my slip of tongue not make it obvious?"

"Are you two…?" She waved her hand around in an indecipherable gesture.

Ian raised an eyebrow and his lips quirked upwards. "I don't know what you're asking."

She scowled. "Do you want me to spell it out?"

"Even if you did, it wouldn't be any of your business," he said, smirking when she huffed in frustration.

A tall figure appeared at Nellie's side and saved him from the awkward interrogation. He stared down at her with a crooked grin. "That drink was supposed to be for _me, _babe."

Ian's eyebrows shot upwards when he heard that. The man was nothing like Sammy, the woman's late boyfriend from a decade ago, and looked polished and well-read. He caught Nellie's glare and smirked when he realized that she knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Micah, this is Ian Kabra. Ian, my boyfriend Micah."

Micah gave him a firm handshake and a good-natured grin. "I know who you are, I'd be an idiot if I didn't. How do you two know each other?"

"Remember that complicated family business I told you about?" Nellie interjected. "Well, that's how I know Ian. He was... _friends_ with the two siblings I would babysit."

Ian tried to swallow a chuckle— the woman hadn't told her boyfriend about the Cahills. "Nice to meet you, Micah. How did you meet Nellie?"

The dreadful gala was a little more tolerable in the former au pair's company. He would rather be caught dead than admit that he enjoyed spending time with her and her boyfriend. He successfully dodged all attempts at discussing Amy and settled into a conversation about foreign affairs with the two. Before he knew it, he was exchanging numbers with Micah before they left and getting forced back into a painful hug with Nellie. She made her disapproval very clear about his unspoken relationship with Amy through a few muttered words.

Ian was exhausted by the time they returned home and his body ached as he settled into bed. It was only eight-thirty, but he was ready to sleep away his whiskey induced headache. He felt the mattress dip as Cara settled into bed next to him. She touched his bicep and snuggled closer.

"That wasn't too bad, was it?" she asked him.

They had reached the venue at four-thirty and stayed for three and a half hours. By Ian's definition, it was bloody _awful, _but he wasn't going to upset her with his whining. He sucked up his pride and nodded, though she couldn't see him in the dark.

"No, I enjoyed it. Derek is doing well."

She hummed under her breath in agreement. He had just closed his eyes when she broke the silence.

"Ian, I've been thinking…" Cara trailed.

He tried to smother his annoyance and blearily responded. "About what?"

"We've been married for almost three years and dated for a while before that. I think it's time we started thinking about kids, don't you?"

He felt as if someone had poured an espresso shot down his throat and started awake. He rubbed a hand over his face and untangled himself from her grasp so he could turn on his bedside lamp. He tried to read her expression but her green eyes were completely sincere.

"What did you just say?"

Cara sighed. "I want kids, Ian. Babies. A tiny Kabra."

He snorted at her extended description. "I heard you. But why?"

"Because you've been distant lately and I think a baby would be good for our family," she said matter-of-factly. Her gaze was focused on reading his reaction and he felt as if he were under a microscope. "_Yes, _Ian. I've noticed. We've barely spoken in the last six months."

Ian spoke slowly. "You think the best thing for our relationship right now is a baby."

"Yes."

"_No_."

Cara looked stunned. Ian didn't deny her much and often went along with what she wanted, fulfilling a vast majority of her demands. They seldom fought because he knew it was pointless, and he focused on outmaneuvering her in quieter ways. He could count on one hand how many times he blatantly refused her.

"You don't want to fix whatever is going on between us so you're going to keep pushing me away."

He scoffed and sat up completely. "Cara, are you even listening to yourself? If you think our marriage is so problematic right now, then a child is the last thing we need to bring into the mix."

She tried to convince him by placing a hand on his face and forcing him to look at her. "We've already gone through so much and have known each other for eleven years. Why not now?"

"That makes zero sense whatsoever."

Cara leaned closer and he could smell her vanilla shampoo. She slid halfway onto his lap and pouted, and everything about the way she touched him was wrong. "Be rational. If we're going to spend the rest of our lives together, then we might as well continue on the Kabra name."

His laugh was humorless as he pushed her off of him and slipped out of bed. "No. We are not doing this again. We are not having kids because it's convenient for you. That's the only reason we got married and I am _not _doing this again."

She physically recoiled as if she'd been slapped. Angry Cara was dangerous and she physically geared up to fight. "What's _wrong_ with you, Ian?"

"I'm being honest. We can't keep going like this."

She crossed her arms over her chest and the strap of her silk nightgown slipped from her shoulder. "All I said I wanted was a baby, and now you're treating me like I'm out of my mind. I've thought this through and the only reason I can think to explain why you're acting this way is because there is someone else."

A sliver of paranoia seized his heart but he knew there was no way Cara would have figured it out. He'd been careful.

"Get this through your goddamn head Cara: I am not having a child with you. _Ever._"

Her face twisted into an angry expression as an ugly version of her revealed itself. "You're a real bastard, Ian. It isn't my fault you didn't have a single useful parent in your life."

Ian clenched his jaw. They both knew what had escaped from her mouth was a low blow, but she kept going.

"I don't care what you think of my father, but I grew up with two parents that loved me. You don't have to forgive him, but I did. You may have gotten used to not having a family, but I have always had one and I'm not going to let you take it away from me!"

He wordlessly turned around and went into his closet. Cara followed him inside.

She was yelling at him now. "Where the hell are you going?"

"Out."

He grabbed a change of clothes and disappeared from their room. After he'd slipped into a pair of slacks and a wrinkled shirt, he slipped his keys into his pocket.

Ian backtracked and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from their bar. While he waited for the elevator to make its way down to the garage, he thumbed out a quick message on his phone. He was surprised when it vibrated with a reply only a second afterward.

[Ian] Where are you?

[Amy] In a cab coming back from Lily's. I'm stopping by the museum to grab some paperwork though.

[Ian] Good. Stay there, I'm on my way.

[Amy] Why? Is everything okay?

[Amy] You still there?

[Ian] I'm fine. Just give me a few minutes.

Amy must have given him clearance to come into the museum because the night guard led him inside with only a puzzled frown. He slipped into her office and saw her look up from her computer, surprised that he had actually shown up. There were dark circles around her eyes and she looked incredibly tired, an invisible amount of stress weighing down her shoulders. A stack of manila folders, books, and official documents were spread out on her desk.

"Ian, it's almost ten. You should be home," she told him. Her brows knitted together when she registered his disheveled state. He was positive he could have passed as homeless.

"I… I don't know what I'm doing here, honestly."

She stood up and walked towards him. She placed a hand on his stubbled cheek and he leaned into her touch. When she frowned, he realized that she had smelled the whiskey.

"You've been drinking," she noted. "You're scaring me, Ian. What happened?"

He ignored her question. "How long are you planning on staying here?"

The space between her eyebrows wrinkled in concern. "Probably until midnight. I have to prepare a statement for a new exhibition."

"Good," he muttered, and abruptly pulled her into his arms. He firmly gripped her chin, tilted her head back and pressed his mouth against hers. His tongue swept past her lips and her body melted in his grasp.

Her chest was heaving when she pulled away and the heat between them was suffocating. "You are _very _drunk, Ian."

His fingers had slipped into her waistband and a corresponding gasp fell from her lips. "Not enough to stop me from driving here," he told her. He backed her across the room until she felt wood digging into the back of her thighs. Amy lightly pushed his shoulder and he conceded.

"This can't happen in the museum again."

He chuckled. "Of course it can. Right on this desk."

Her scandalized glare only lasted a brief moment until he lifted her onto the desk and her papers went flying to the ground. He heard a crash as a cup full of pens clattered against the floor. His mouth was back on hers, intoxicating her with a dozen deep kisses. She forced herself to fight the haze of hormones and broke away.

"Ian, you need to tell me what happened."

He tried to distract her but she stood her ground and he exhaled. His eyes were focused and determined as he stared at her. With her swollen lips, tired eyes, and tangled red hair, nothing in the world was more beautiful.

"I love you. You are too bloody good for me, Amy Cahill, but I am in love with you."

Her mouth was agape and he thought he had screwed up for good. Her jade green eyes widened and her freckled cheeks colored pink. This time, she yanked him down to her level and mumbled those three dangerous works against his skin.

He whispered it into her lips like a mantra, on the pulse point above her collarbone, against her sweaty temple and on her fingertips. And when she said it back every single time, his heart no longer belonged to Cara Pierce.


	11. the marriage(s)

**AN: **This chapter gave me a lot of trouble and I really apologize for the delay. Hopefully, its length will make up for it. As always please enjoy and leave a review.

**Disclaimer**: All unoriginal content, characters, and plots taken from the authors of The 39 Clues. Everything else is my own creative content, and copying is not permitted.

**THE ROOFTOP RESTAURANT  
****11: the marriage(s)**

_December 2022_

[Amy] Happy Christmas, Ian!

[Ian] Merry Christmas to you, too.

[Amy] I hope we can spend some time together after the holidays. I miss you.

[Ian] Likewise. Please come back before I lose my mind at all these dinner parties.

[Amy] Haha, I'll rescue you soon. Love you.

[Ian] I love you, too.

"Before I give this to you, I want you to know that I don't condone this relationship."

Amy set her paperback onto her bedside table and frowned. Nellie was standing in the doorway of her bedroom at the Cahill estate with a cardboard box in her hands and a very conflicted expression on her face. She had flown in from New York to spend the holidays with the rest of her family, and had even brought Micah.

She hopped off the bed, walked towards her, and set the package on the dresser. Though the sender hadn't identified himself, her name had been penned in unmistakable handwriting.

"Ian," she mumbled under her breath. She looked up at Nellie and her suspicions were confirmed. Her face scrunched up in confusion; why had he sent Nellie a package, and why was she giving it to her?

Nellie read her confusion and sighed. "I met Ian back in September at a gala we were both attending. He's been in touch with Micah and they've been getting along great. He reached out to me for a favor since he didn't want to send that to your place."

Amy nodded— she had sent his gift to his private flat, but there was nowhere in Boston where he could have delivered hers without raising suspicion. Though neither of them had confirmed it explicitly after the museum banquet, Nellie was the only person who knew about their affair.

"Look," Nellie sighed, her arms crossed over her chest. She kicked the bedroom door shut to block out the sounds of Jake, Atticus, Dan, and Micah laughing downstairs. "I know I said I don't support this, but I don't exactly disapprove either. It sounds awful when I say it like that, but… you're going to have to choose, Amy, and it seems like Ian is the one that's better for you."

Her stomach dropped at the unfiltered reminder of reality. "Nellie—"

"An affair was the worst way to go about this, but I get it. I'm not blind and I've noticed the way Jake has been treating you. I've been watching you kick yourself these past two years for taking a freaking temporary job and you shouldn't have to feel that way. It's not fair and I really want you to be happy."

Tears had sprung to her eyes and her au pair waved her off dismissively, though she was getting misty, too.

"No need to get mushy. Open that box, I want to see what the millionaire got you."

Amy snorted and peeled back the packaging tape. The first thing she picked up was a piece of white cardstock with three short words.

_With love, Ian._

Nellie was watching over her shoulder and she could feel her concern bearing holes into the side of her head. She slid the paper into a drawer and pulled out two gifts wrapped in gold wrapping paper. She tore open the larger one and her jaw dropped.

In her hands was a first edition volume of _Anna Karenina _along with a collector's copy in English. She opened the older book and her fingers skimmed the worn pages.

"Holy shit. Is that what I think it is?"

Amy swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. "Three thousand dollars worth of original literature? Yes."

The second present was a flat velvet blue box. She opened the lid and was speechless once again. Inside laid a thin gold chain with seven tiny letters strung equal distances apart. Each little piece was barely over a few millimeters tall, but she could spell out the name clearly.

"_Ophelia_," Nellie mused. "What does that mean?"

Any hugged the box to her chest, stunned, and her mouth ran dry. "It's the name of one of my favorite places," she told her.

The woman whistled low under her breath and helped her pack the excess paper back into the box. "Wow, he didn't disappoint. I hope you got him something half as good."

She bit her lip to suppress a giggle. The books alone added up to what should would have been paying for her Manhattan rent, and she had nowhere near as much money as him. Finding a present for a man as accomplished, wealthy, and scary as Ian Kabra had taken her _weeks_. She had second guessed herself until the moment she dropped it off at the post office.

Amy heard the door open downstairs and Fiske's rumbling laugh as he was introduced to Micah. The man had spent Christmas morning visiting old friends and the rest of them had decided to wait before exchanging gifts. Nellie helped her bury the books and necklace under clothes in her dresser and they went downstairs.

"Amy? Could I talk to you for a second?" Micah pulled her aside when she reached the living room. She hadn't spent much time alone with the man and she furrowed her eyebrows as she followed him into the library. He shut the door behind them with a quick glance, and she assumed it was to make sure Nellie wasn't looking.

Micah pulled out a baby blue box out of his pocket and cracked it open. She gasped, covering her mouth as she took in the diamond ring.

"Oh my God. How long have you been planning this?"

He grinned crookedly. "Since she made me eight different pies for Thanksgiving. What do you think?"

The ring had small diamonds crafted into the shape of a flower, resting on a rose gold band. The glittering petals were carefully set around a larger stone in the middle. She had never seen an engagement ring so artfully made: it was delicate and unique, and perfect for a woman like Nellie Gomez.

"It's beautiful," she told him, pulling the man into a hug. "She's going to love it. I'm so excited for you two."

His face looked as if it were about to burst from happiness and boyish excitement. "I was hoping to catch her alone tonight. If it's still snowing, I thought I'd take her to the sunroom."

Amy nodded at his subtle request. "Just romantic enough, but not too much to scare her away," she agreed. "I'll get everyone out of your way."

When they returned to the living room, Nellie gave them a skeptical frown. It was short-lived, however, as Dan had started sorting through the pile under the Christmas tree. Sunlight filtered through the windows and the ornaments glittered against the evergreen tree. Amy's heart felt full and she pressed a kiss against Fiske's cheek once he'd settled into the recliner.

"How are the Clarke's?" she asked him.

"Doing well. Lots of creaky bones, though. I keep forgetting how old I am until I meet up with friends I've known since the sixties," he chuckled, setting down his cane.

Amy gave him a teasing grin. "Really? You don't look a day over thirty, Uncle Fiske."

He snorted.

The rest of their Christmas afternoon flew by. They checked off their usual traditions (presents, movies, dinner, and a large group phone call with beloved friends) and added some new ones (snacks from around the world Micah had brought, and a code breaking contest Dan had created). Before she knew it, it was already late at night and she was lighting candles in the sunroom. She turned on the patio lights and the light bouncing off the snowflakes outside made the setting look dreamy.

Jake had followed her into the room with raised eyebrows. "What's all this?" he asked her.

The holiday season brought normalcy back into their lives and she appreciated his effort in repairing their recent gap. She couldn't be bothered to do the same, however, as her affair had exhausted the dwindling feelings she had for Jake.

"Micah is asking Nellie to marry him tonight," Amy explained. She pursed her lips as she shook out a match. "Are they still out?"

Jake nodded. "He took her to see his sister. Her family lives in Boston."

She rearranged a bouquet of flowers. Grace had always kept fresh roses and daisies in the sunroom, and Dan had kept up the tradition with imported blossoms. She noticed Jake shifting awkwardly on his feet before he decided to approach her.

"You know, there are only five months left until I'm done with my program," he pointed out.

Amy looked up at him, confused as to why he was bringing up his impending graduation. "I know," she said, trying to lighten her tone. "It's exciting, isn't it?"

He shrugged his shoulders and mussed his brown hair. His expression was earnest and he seemed nervous to speak his mind. "Maybe we should start wedding planning, don't you think? It would be nice to get the family together in August."

Her heart dropped into her stomach. She turned away so he wouldn't see her features twist into a painful expression. Nellie's words from that morning rung in her ears— Jake must have mentioned it to her to warrant a subtle warning. In an ideal world, she would be able to spend the rest of her life with Ian. However, the chances of him leaving behind his well-established life with Cara was slim, and she didn't know how she could ever break up with Jake. She always slipped the ring off her finger and left it in her bag anytime she was with Ian, and successfully avoided thinking about her upcoming wedding. At home, the rocky tension between her and Jake gave her something else to focus on and they had seemingly forgotten about what the diamonds signified.

Her throat constricted and she had never felt so trapped and hopeless before. Despite this, she turned back to Jake and plastered a smile onto her face.

"I think so, too. Sinead has been bugging me about how she wants a summer bridesmaids dress," she said, her light laughter a little breathless from the way her heart was beating.

Jake's face brightened considerably and he wrapped his arms around her from behind. "We could do it at the estate," he told her.

Amy hummed in agreement and closed her eyes. A confession was at the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it down along with the lump in her throat.

"Dad and Atticus would have to fly in from Europe, and it'll be a rough time trying to get the Cahills together," he continued.

"We can make it work," she said. He pressed his lips against her temple and her skin burned.

"Yeah, we definitely can."

Reality was hitting her like a truck and her anxiety heightened. "I still have to find a dress," she mumbled. She had started searching for a gown early into their engagement out of pure excitement. As the American Museum created a rift between them and they drifted apart, her eagerness had disappeared.

"You'll look beautiful in anything."

She scoffed. The sound of the front door opening and Nellie's enthusiastic rambling ended their moment. She turned around and when Jake leaned in, she willingly kissed him back.

"Time for bed?" he asked her.

She bit her lip and nodded her head, not just at his question, but in acceptance of what laid ahead. They were getting married. They had been together since she was sixteen, and Jake was the right person for her. She had to leave behind everything that had transpired since she'd sent the first email.

"Yes," Amy agreed. "Let's go."

* * *

Cara was going to kill him.

Ian always made a point to stop by the Kabra office building and leave behind small tokens of appreciation in every single one of his employees' mailboxes. His wife thought the gesture was excessive and costly, but he met his assistant at sunrise on the twenty-fifth of every December. Afterwards, he would dial the phone and call Bickerduff. The elderly man maintained the Kabra mansion, and while he sternly refused any favors, Ian convinced him to make the estate home. He couldn't bear to part from his family's property, but the halls held painful memories and he could rarely bring himself to return.

Bickerduff knew all the intimate details of the Kabra family, from their business empire to their reign as powerful Lucians. When the man pestered him for details on his life, having given him an update on his grandchildren, Ian couldn't stop himself. He'd launched into a long tirade about Amy and his treacherous affair. As always, the quiet man listened and offered him vague pieces of advice.

Afterwards, Ian had gone to his apartment where the doorman handed him a small package. It only took him a few seconds to open it, but he sat on his bed for an hour and stared at the gift. Red wrapping paper was strewn over the white sheets like blood and the gold ribbon Amy had tied so intricately laid on the floor.

Many of the relics from the original Clue Hunt had been preserved and spread across different branch strongholds. They were under tight security and regarded as an important piece of Cahill history. Often, the relics came under dispute and the branches had been fighting for _years _over who deserved ownership.

Ian didn't know how she'd done it, but Amy had sent him the philosopher's coin. The tarnished gold had been polished and laid nestled in a sheet of silk. It was a harsh reminder of the time he'd betrayed her and _literally _locked her into a cave to die, but also the beginning of a painful thirteen year journey to where he was today. Along with it was a small book. His fingers slid over the leatherbound cover and he traced the embossed text.

_The Cahill Foundation_

_In loving memory of Natalie Kabra. Daughter, sister, and fearless Lucian._

Inside were the architectural plans for a building in London. There were progress pictures of the construction, monthly updates, and a sketch of the exhibitions. He skimmed over the mission statement for the jointly-owned museum and details for a memorial. The foundation would be the first Cahill meeting ground indifferent to branches loyalties.

Ian had heard rumblings of the project, but he had quickly dismissed it as an unimportant and superficial attempt at diffusing conflict. He was stunned that Amy had sacrificed her precarious position in order to recognize the youngest victim of the multigenerational war with the Vespers, as unpopular as she may have been.

He blew out a breath when Cara texted him the umpteenth time about taking too long and an order to hurry over for Christmas breakfast with her mother. His chest felt tight, a reaction that Amy seemed to bring out of him very often. He put away the book and coin, but not without another lengthy glance.

"Ian!" His wife stood up to greet him, a fake smile plastered over her perfect features. She kissed his cheek, though her lips remained near his ear. "You shouldn't have kept me waiting."

He grimaced and pulled away to greet his mother-in-law. Debi Ann Pierce had reverted to her maiden name and cut all ties from her estranged husband. She was an incredibly strong woman with a fierce heart that always sought the truth. He wondered why Cara hadn't seemed to adopt any of her mother's admirable traits.

Ian entered the same restaurant where he'd spent the past few Christmases with Cara. The breakfast spot was reserved for New York's rich and famous. It's black and white tiles reflected the grandiose chandeliers sparkling overhead and a live musician served as the perfect backdrop to lively chatter. The space was filled with impeccably dressed men and women, faces bright with a holiday glow that could only be bought.

"Merry Christmas, darling," Deborah greeted, wrapping him in a hug. She pulled away and examined him with a frown, her hands on either side of his face. "Oh my, you look exhausted. My daughter hasn't been taking very good care of you."

He tried not to snicker when Cara shot her mother a pointed glower. "Our staff has done an impeccable job in maintaining our household. Ian just hasn't been showing up to make use of their work," she sniped.

Deborah winced. "None of that. It's a holiday, Cara. Let's enjoy this wonderful breakfast, shall we?"

Ian took his seat and watched a slew of waiters cover the pristine tablecloth in an assortment of dishes. "It's nice to have you here, Deborah."

"Oh, I know. It's been too long since I had a proper meal with you two. Always so busy— I've seen more of you on television than real life!"

Cara picked up her stemmed glass and locked eyes with her husband. "You and me both," she quipped.

He grimaced. The holiday season was Cara's favorite time to voice her grievances, especially with her mother to bear witness. "It's been an eventful year," he answered. "How has Malaysia been treating you?"

"Very kindly. I enjoy the change in scenery, even if it's in an entirely different country. Besides," she said, pausing to take a bite of her omelette, "I have so many new opportunities to expand my art collection."

Ian continued conversing with Deborah for the majority of their meal. He kept the conversation controlled— light and airy, nothing controversial or argumentative. He had been doing well, until his mother-in-law brought up their tumultuous family.

"I heard about the spectacle you and the Madrigal girl made in Greece," Deborah began. Her daughter's eyebrows shot upwards; she had stayed silent, but her interest had been piqued. "Good for you. The Lucians will be yours very soon."

He hadn't spoken about the negotiations with Cara. She had been extremely uninterested ever since he stepped back into the Cahill world, and she was vehemently opposed to his involvement with any of the branches. "It's a work in progress. I don't expect it to be easy," he chuckled.

"I told him not to waste his time," Cara sighed, scraping frosting off her place uninterestedly. "They are a disaster."

Deborah pursed her lips. "I don't see the harm in it. Family is family, and it's better to fight it than run away. Besides, you also got some work done with your company, didn't you? They're calling you the savior of the Greek economy."

Ian grinned. While he cared deeply about regaining control of his branch, he would never abandon his company in the process. "Two birds with one stone. It was a successful trip."

"Speaking of Greece," Cara said, squaring her shoulders as she caught their attention, "I've had some business in the Mediterranean that concerns you, Mom."

Deborah's expression was curious while his brows pinched together. While they hadn't spoken of their respective work lately, Ian couldn't imagine why his wife had involved herself overseas. She avoided his gaze, even as he stared at her intently.

"I have been in contact with someone you haven't spoken to in a very long time."

Deborah frowned. Her face was neutral and her tone was cool, a sharp contrast to her warm friendliness moments ago. "Rutherford."

Cara nodded, her white-blonde hair dancing along her shoulders. "I thought I would tell you today, in the spirit of family and holidays. He's changed quite a bit and would like another chance to be a husband and a father."

Ian internally groaned and tried to intervene. While he abhorred Rutherford Pierce for an insurmountable number of reasons, he couldn't imagine his wife had any fondness left in her after his betrayal. "Cara—"

"He's doing well, Mom. _Really_ well. He's gotten over all his delusions with the serum and wants his family back."

Deborah placed her cutlery on her plate and folded her napkin neatly. "No. My answer is no," she said curtly. "And if you cared for me, you would drop this nonsense immediately."

"Mom, we can get our family name back. If the public sees him now, it'll bring us into the political spotlight—"

"Cara, _please_," Ian interjected. He was swallowing a bout of anger and the inexplicable urge to leave. "I don't think we need to talk about this right now."

She shook her head stubbornly. "You're a Kabra, a Cahill. You're not a Pierce," she said scaldingly.

Ian's jaw clenched and he spotted surrounding tables turn to observe the palpable tension at their table. "As the person your father tried to kill _multiple _times, I think I have a say in this."

"He called Galt before he called you. I'm sure you know that." Deborah's gaze was alight with years of buried hurt. "I do not want my husband back. He married me to manipulate me. I suggest you drop your fantasy of a Pierce political fortress and focus on what you _do_ have."

"Mother, you don't know what you're giving up—"

Deborah stood up and collected her purse. She dropped a few bills on the table, more than enough to cover for her meal. "That's enough. If you're done, I'm leaving."

Ian crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his seat as he watched his mother-in-law briskly walk out of sight. He turned to his wife, whose face was red from embarrassment and indignation. They had an audience, a slew of diners quietly watching the abrupt departure of one of their guests.

He broke the silence, his voice low. "You shouldn't have done that."

"Just like you shouldn't have gone back to the Cahills." Cara laughed bitterly, shaking her head and hiding behind a curtain of hair to mask the emotion pricking her eyes. "We're one and the same, Ian. Don't forget that."


End file.
